


Unstoppable

by claraoswaldwithfitzsimmonsin221b



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Clintasha - Freeform, Gen, Marvel - Freeform, OC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 91,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3120455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claraoswaldwithfitzsimmonsin221b/pseuds/claraoswaldwithfitzsimmonsin221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twins Anastasia and Natalia Silivanov have been running for their entire lives. They don't know anything different. Then, one day, they stumble upon a young girl in deep trouble. What they do next will change their lives, and the lives of two people they don't even know yet, forever. The girls have run from family, from home, and from friends, but when a strange man and an eerily familiar redhead break into their house, the last thing Anastasia and Natalia expect is exactly what they find: a reason to stop running.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From Russia

**Chapter 1: From Russia**

Anastasia's feet pounded against the pavement as she ran.  _Talia is gonna kill me,_ she thought, tossing a glance over her shoulder at the group of guys chasing after her. She ducked into an alley and rolled into a hole in the wall, holding her breath as the boys ran past, cursing as they went. She slipped out and took off in the other direction until she reached a small shop. Anastasia went around to the back and up an old, narrow staircase. She grimaced when she heard a soft humming coming from behind the door. Bracing herself, she turned the handle and stepped inside the small apartment. At the sound of the door opening the girl who was humming spun around defensively. Her blond hair whipped around and her sharp green eyes were wary. When she saw Anastasia she relaxed, at least until she took in Anastasia's condition. Anastasia's blond hair was tangled and dirty and minor scratches crisscrossed her arms and legs. Her eyes were filled with apology.

"Stasia..." The other girl sighed.

"I'm sorry Talia, but-" Even as Anastasia started to defend herself, her twin cut her off.

"You said it wouldn't happen again Stasia. We both agreed not to live like that anymore." Talia, or rather Natalia, pursed her lips together disapprovingly.

"I can't just wave my hand and change the way we were raised Natalia!" snapped Anastasia. "It's not easy for me like it is for you!" She turned and stormed down the hall to the room they shared, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

A few hours later there was a slight tapping on the door. Anastasia was curled into a ball on her bed, tear streaks drying on her cheeks and sporting puffy red eyes.

"Stasia?" Natalia poked her head around the door. "мир?" _(peace?)_  Stasia looked up.  _She never speaks in Russian anymore._

"Я не хочу говорить."  _(I just want to talk)_ said Natalia, closing the door behind her and coming over to Anastasia's bed with a plate of cookies.

"Затем,"  _(So talk)_  replied Anastasia, not bothering to move from her position on the bed.

"Я знаю, что вы думаете я использую из нашего прошлого; что я пытаюсь забыть,"  _(I know that you think that I'm running from our past; that I'm trying to forget)_ began Natalia, "И вы правы. Я использую. Я использую потому что боюсь, Stasia. Боюсь, что они сможете нас найти еще раз. Боюсь силового они За нас. Я не хочу жить смотрит через плечо Stasia. Именно поэтому мы скрыть. Именно поэтому мы не показывать кому-либо какие они подготовку нам Не."  _(And you're right. I'm running. I run because I'm afraid, Stasia. I'm afraid that they'll find us again. I don't want to live life looking over my shoulder, Stasia. That's why we hide. That's why we don't show anyone what they trained us to do, to be.)_ Natalia set her head down in her hands, "Потому что боюсь Stasia."  _(Because I'm afraid, Stasia.)_ Anastasia finally pushed herself up and wrapped her arms around Natalia who had started to cry. Anastasia felt her own tears resurface and she simply clung to her twin, taking support as much as giving it. Softly, so only someone with hearing as good as Natalia's would hear, she whispered,

"Я слишком."  _(I am too.)_

* * *

So for the next few weeks, Anastasia tried. She didn't pick fights and she kept her head low-as much as she could anyway. It was probably the longest she had gone without coming home to Natalia's disappointed look. They were both wondering how long it could last, and they were sure it wouldn't be for long. Sure enough, they were walking home from the store one evening when Anastasia saw something she simply couldn't walk away from. A young girl, about four or five maybe, was surrounded by menacing looking boys, cracking their knuckles and closing in on her. Before Natalia could react Anastasia had shoved the groceries she was carrying into Talia's arms and taken off sprinting toward the girl. She ducked under the arm of the largest guy and stood protectively in front of the little girl, drawing her close to her side.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." She said calmly to the one who was clearly the leader. He looked at her with disbelief.

"I don't see why not." He sneered. Anastasia picked up the kid and whispered,

"When the fighting starts, I want you to run over to the girl who looks like me, okay? I'll be right behind you." The little girl nodded mutely, fear prominent in her big green eyes. Anastasia set her down just as the leader sent his first punch. The kid took off running while Anastasia caught the wrist of the leader and flipped him onto his back. The rest of the gang was paralyzed with shock, giving her the advantage. She elbowed the next guy in the gut and when he doubled over she kicked him in the head, knocking him out. She let the momentum from her kick push her into one of the guys from the other side that had recovered his senses and started for her. She head-butted his chin but he grabbed her around the waist, pinning her to his chest. She swung her legs up and wrapped her thighs around his head. She flipped him over, landing him on top of one of the guys who had been coming at her.  _Two left,_ she thought. She ducked under the first one's punch and gave a quick kick to sweep his legs out from under him. As he fell to the ground she reached behind her without even looking and grabbed the forearm of the last guy standing, who had been about to punch her. Using his own momentum she swung him up and down, hard, onto his fallen companion. Satisfied with the sickening crunch that she heard, Anastasia walked back over to her twin and the little girl. Natalia had set the groceries down and gathered the girl into her arms. Now that she could get a closer look, Anastasia could see that the girl's red hair was jaggedly cut and extremely knotted. She was very skinny and her shorts and t-shirt were ripped and dirty.  _She lives on the street_ , Anastasia realized. She reached the pair across the street and took the girl from Natalia, who started to retrieve the groceries from the sidewalk. When she stood, Anastasia was surprised to see that Talia's face was devoid of annoyance.

"Существует хорошая причина."  _(There was a good reason.)_  said Natalia, slipping into their native tongue without a second thought. Anastasia nodded slowly and looked down at the small figure in her arms.

"What's your name sweetie?"

"Rani." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Is there anyone who takes care of you hon?" Natalia asked. Rani shook her head.

"All alone," she whispered, burying her face in Anastasia's neck.

"It's okay honey, shhh, it's alright." Anastasia felt Rani's tears wet her neck and rubbed comforting circles into the little girl's lower back. She sent Natalia a look.  _We are so taking her home._ Natalia sort of sighed, but she knew that Anastasia was right. She nodded and grabbed the last bag from the ground.

"It's okay sweetheart," said Stasia soothingly, "we're gonna take care of you now." Rani looked up at her with tear filled eyes,

"Really?"

"Promise." Stasia pulled the little girl even closer to her as new tears spilled from Rani's eyes-tears of joy.

* * *

"Coulson." Agent Maria Hill glanced up as Phil Coulson walked by her desk on the helicarrier. "You should take a look at this." Coulson diverted his path so that he ended up standing in front of her computer monitor.

"Why am I watching a street standoff?" Coulson asked. He didn't see why a small girl being beaten up had relevance to S.H.I.E.L.D. Sure, it was horrible, but this should be something for the local PD, not a high level government agency.

"Just watch." Hill said. Out of nowhere an older girl with an agile, though slight, frame ran up and butted in. Coulson watched in amazement as the older girl rescued the little one and singlehandedly took down the entire squad of burly looking boys. Hill looked over at Coulson.

"I get it now," he said, "what happened next?" Hill tapped the mouse a couple of times and a different feed popped up. Coulson blinked, not quite sure what he saw.

"There's two?"

"Twins, from the look of it," confirmed Hill, "They're going by Angela and Naomi Smith but there's no guarantee that those are real names. We need you to put a team on this. A good one," she added as an afterthought. Coulson raised an eyebrow.

"Surely you or Fury have a team for this. Why do you need one of mine?" Hill had obviously been expecting this. She hit a few more keys and the camera zoomed in on one of the twins.

"We don't have audio, but we ran this through our lip reading software. Guess what she  _isn't_ speaking?"

"English." Coulson looked at Hill, "and your point is...?" Hill pulled up the lip reading results. Coulson nodded.

"I'll get some people on it."

"Not just  _some people_  Phil," called Hill as Coulson walked away. She glanced back down at the computer screen before she closed the windows.

_Russian._

* * *

Anastasia looked at Rani who, as it turned out, was five. The little girl giggled as she played with the bubbles that Stasia had put in the bathtub. Natalia was in the next room over, making up their extra bed for Rani to sleep on. Anastasia rubbed some shampoo into Rani's hair. It really was a beautifully rich shade of red once you cleaned all the dirt out of it.

"Alright,малыш, time to get out." Rani made a pouty face but let Anastasia pull the plug out of the drain and rinse the last of the bubbles from her hair. Stasia gently toweled the little girl off, being extra careful around the bruises that Rani had from her time on the street. She slipped her into some old sweatpants and a tank top that the twins had managed to scrounge up, letting her short red hair hang in damp ringlets. She scooped Rani up, causing her to squeal with delight and carried her into the small kitchen. Natalia had already cooked the hot dogs that they had picked up that afternoon and was in the process of cutting one up for Rani. She set the plate down in front of the five year old who smiled angelically.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome sweetheart," replied Talia, her heart melting as Rani dug into what was probably her best meal in a long time. Natalia passed Anastasia a hot dog, then grabbed one for herself and sat down.

"Так что же нам не нужно о ее?"  _(So what are we gonna do about her?)_  asked Talia quietly.

"Мы можем смотреть после ее,"  _(We can look after her.)_  answered Stasia, "Не в первый раз мы приняли к кому-либо в соответствии с нашими крыла." ( _It wouldn't be the first time we took someone under our wing.)_

"Это разные. Она очень молодые."  _(This is different. She's very young.)_

"Мы можем сделать это,"  _(We can do it.)_  insisted Stasia. Rani looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Why are you talking funny?" she asked, tilting her head to the side in confusion. Natalia smiled.

"It's called Russian honey. It's a different language than English, but it's the language that Stasia and I learned first."

"Oh." Rani seemed satisfied with this and she returned to her hot dog. Talia turned back to Stasia and Stasia smiled, because she could already see Natalia giving in.

"Да, согласен. Мы предоставим его на дороге,"  _(Alright. We can give it a go.)_  consented Talia. Anastasia smiled, then eyed the clock.

"Alright, Принцесса, time for bed," Stasia stood up from the table and picked up Rani as Talia started to clear away the dishes.

"Awwwwwww," Rani frowned.

"C'mon sweetie, don't you want to see the comfy bed that Natalia made up just for you?" Rani brightened a little at that prospect.

"Okay," she decided, "night night Talia!"

"Good night sweetheart," Natalia stepped over and gave Rani a little hug, then Anastasia took her off to get ready for bed.

* * *

Coulson entered the training room to general chaos.  _Not again,_  he thought exasperated,  _how many times have we told them to leave the trainees alone?_  He watched as the recruits did their best to dodge deadly accurate arrows, although these were simply shot to pin their hair or clothes to the wall. Those that weren't eyeing the skies were warily watching the shadows, then jumping halfway to heaven when a silent red-haired assassin dropped from the support beams and took them by surprise. Coulson stepped forward.

"Alright! Practice is over! Agents dismissed." The recruits all headed off in the direction of the locker room.

"Not you Romanoff." Coulson glared at Natasha as she turned back around, a hint of guilt just barely visible on her face. Coulson looked up into the rafters. "Barton I know you're up there and you have two seconds to have your ass down here before I drop you from active field duty." A muscular figure dressed in all black swung down and landed in front of Coulson, wearing even less remorse on his face than Natasha. Coulson glowered angrily at both of them. "What have we told you about the recruits?"

"We were bored Coulson," Natasha said, "It's not our fault that we've been stuck here for three weeks without a mission." Clint nodded in agreement. Coulson rolled his eyes but let the matter drop.

"I want both of you in my office in ten. Looks like you've got that mission you want so much." He turned his back on the two assassins and walked out.

* * *

"Tell me again why you're sending us on a mission to pick up potential recruits?" asked Clint approximately 20 minutes later, "Isn't this like, level six stuff?" Natasha was flipping intently through the mission file, analyzing the two girls that constituted their main target.

"The level agent needed varies on the target," answered Coulson, "You know that Barton."

"Well yeah, but Nat and I haven't been on a recruitment mission since we hit level seven." Natasha gave him a look.

"What?!" demanded Clint, "it's true!"

"Isn't it obvious Clint?" Natasha smirked, "Maybe not to you, I suppose, although it should be."

"Well why are we on this mission then Miss Know-It-All?" Natasha flipped the file around and slid it over to Clint.

"At least one of the girls has been extensively trained, pretty close to S.H.I.E.L.D. level training from the looks of it. It's pretty safe to assume that if one of them is trained, the other one probably is as well. S.H.I.E.L.D. is sending us in because these two appeared out of nowhere a few years ago and they speak Russian. Well." Natasha sat back in her chair and looked at Coulson for confirmation. He nodded.

"That's pretty much it. The address is there. I suggest that you at least try a diplomatic approach first, but that decision is yours to make." Coulson looked at both of them. "Be careful, you two. Dismissed." The two agents nodded to their handler and headed out the door.

* * *

Anastasia was sitting at the table while Natalia cooked pancakes when they heard the sound they never wanted to: a knocking at the door. They exchanged a glance, then Anastasia stood and opened the door. A man dressed in black pants and a sleeveless black shirt stood before them. He was wearing sunglasses and fingerless gloves.

"Miss Smith? My name is Agent Clint Barton, I'm with S.H.I.E.L.D. I wonder if I could have a word?" Anastasia glanced over her shoulder at Natalia. They both knew that they couldn't turn him away without looking guilty, so Anastasia stood back to let him into the apartment.

"We just have a few questions for you." Said the agent.

"Who is we?" inquired Anastasia.

"S.H.I.E.L.D." answered the agent, "the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division."

Natalia and Anastasia froze at the word homeland.

"Вы думаете, что им известно?"  _(Do you think they know?)_ Anastasia asked Natalia, completely disregarding the presence of Agent Barton.

"Конечно, они знают, зачем же тогда бы они здесь?"  _(Of course they know, why else would they be here?)_  hissed Natalia

"Как мы будем играть?" _(How do we play this?)_  Anastasia searched her memory, trying to think of a way out of this situation.

"Мы выкладывать, дайте ему играть."  _(We just have to let it play out.)_  Natalia shot a glance at the agent who was looking at them curiously. "По крайней мере он не говорит по-русски." _(At least he doesn't speak Russian.)_

"Фактически, он не будет. Он только удивительно ужасного. К счастью, он меня захватывает его слабину."  _(Actually, he does. He's just terribly awful at it. Luckily, he has me to pick up his slack.)_ Both girls spun around as the unknown voice spoke into the room. They found themselves looking at a woman dressed in a black cat suit with short, wavy red hair and green eyes. They froze, eyes widening as they looked slowly at each other then back at the woman, ensuring that they were seeing the same thing. The woman took in their expressions and nodded.

"Вы знаете, кто я, разве нет? Я подумал, что это может быть, что способ."  _(You know who I am, don't you? I thought it might turn out this way.)_  She nodded to the other agent, who had drawn a funny looking pistol while the girls' backs were turned. He calmly shot each of them with an ICER round and they crumpled to the ground.

"My Russian isn't that bad," complained Clint, slinging one twin over each shoulder.

"Пожалуйста. Это ужасно."  _(Please. It's terrible.)_  Natasha snorted at Clint's confused face. "There you go, proving my point."

"Oh shut up Tasha," Clint scowled at her, "go get the little one." Natasha was gone for a few seconds, then returned holding a sleeping girl wrapped in a blanket. She reached up and tapped her earpiece.

"Alright Coulson we've got them. Send in the extraction team."

 


	2. With Love

**Chapter 2: With Love**

Anastasia opened her eyes to extremely dim light. She was lying on a comfortable bed in a small room. She rolled over and stretched, then pushed herself into a sitting position, taking stock of her injuries.  _Nothing broken,_ she concluded,  _just a few bruises._  She slid off the bed and walked over to the door, reaching for the handle.

"I know that you don't actually expect that to work." Stasia whipped around and looked at the figure that she hadn't noticed before standing in the shadows. The redheaded woman from before was leaning against the wall.  _Well this complicates things,_ thought Anastasia _._  Calmly, Stasia turned from the door and settled herself cross-legged on the bed. She warily eyed the woman in silence.

"What, no snappy retort?" The woman raised her eyebrows. "That was the first thing I learned."

"Where's my sister?"

"All in good time," the woman wore a careful mask, "why don't we start with your real name?" Anastasia remained silent. As much as she hated that she knew it, she  _did_  know how to handle interrogations.

"We're not going to hurt you. And I promise that whatever you're hiding from, we can protect you." Anastasia snorted but didn't answer the question. The woman flipped her hair back impatiently. Clearly this wasn't the way that she normally worked interrogations.

"You know, I was there," she nodded to the bed, "about eleven years ago. I know I sure as hell didn't trust S.H.I.E.L.D. They sent an assassin to kill me. Their best one, in fact. I don't expect you to trust us either," she was still casually leaning against the wall, "In fact, I'm surprised you haven't tried to attack us yet. After all, we basically kidnapped you out of your apartment." If the agent was fazed by Anastasia's silence, she didn't show it.  _I wonder why she's still alive if they set out to kill her,_  Stasia pondered the thought while keeping her face guardedly neutral. Out of nowhere, the woman smiled.

"Take it easy Barton."  _She must be on comms_ , realized Anastasia. The agent turned back to her.

"It seems that your sister just attempted to incapacitate my partner." She stepped forward, clasping her hands behind her back. "So what is it that is keeping you from doing the same to me?"

"I'm not as stupid as she is." Anastasia couldn't help but reply. The agent nodded.

"That's it then? Because I think there's something more to it." Anastasia lapsed back into silence. The woman was watching her closely, for all her casual stance, so she could see the slightest hint of fearful knowledge flit across the girl's face.

"What are you so afraid of?"

"You." Anastasia finally broke, her calm facade slipping. The agent's eyes hardened, but for some reason Anastasia didn't think the anger was directed at her.

"And who am I?" Her tone had cooled considerably.

"изменника," _(the traitor)_  whispered Anastasia, curling in on herself defensively, a habit she had developed in stressful situations. She squeezed her eyes shut, prepared for the woman's anger to fly. When nothing happened, she opened her eyes and peeked up. The woman hadn't moved an inch.

"I said we wouldn't hurt you ребёнок _(child)_. I meant it. Are you going to tell me your name?" The ice had receded from the agent's voice and instead been replaced with some carefully controlled emotion, though Anastasia wasn't sure exactly what.

_What more damage can I do?_ Thought Stasia hopelessly,  _I already broke the rules_.

"Anastasia," she whispered. The woman nodded and left the room without a sound. Anastasia sagged, letting gravity take over and her tears soak the pillow.

* * *

Natasha shut the door behind her and leaned against the wall outside the room. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She knew exactly how close she had come to losing it in there. She had just laid her head back against the wall when her earpiece crackled with Coulson's voice.

"Romanoff, report." She pushed herself off the wall and made her way to central command. She walked through the automatic doors. Clint was already there, sitting on a table with ice on his right wrist. Natasha smirked, but didn't say anything.

"Well?" asked Coulson.

"Her name is Anastasia. She's approximately 16 or 17, didn't say. Judging by her muscle structure and toning she's had some fairly heavy training from a very young age. Her accent suggests that she grew up in Russia, but that she's been in the States for a minimum of four years, enough to water down the accent considerably. She has complete mastery of English but prefers to converse in Russian. Also, " Natasha paused for the first time and looked directly at Coulson, "her reflex when she first broke and divulged information was to curl up in a ball and cringe, expecting pain I believe." Coulson absorbed the influx of information. Natasha turned to Clint, "So, did you get anything useful before the girl broke your wrist Barton?"

"It's bruised, not broken." Clint glared at her before continuing, "the other one is mostly the same. Her accent is slightly more Americanized, but I don't think she's been in the States longer. They're too close for that. My best guess is that she speaks English more frequently than her sister. Based on what we've seen of their relationship dynamic I would guess that she was born first. Her name..." Clint hesitated for a second, "...is Natalia." Natasha's head snapped around.

"That's not possible."

"I know." Clint looked at her, at a loss. Coulson glanced back and forth between them.

"I get the feeling that I'm missing something here," their handler said, "either of you care to explain?"

"It's not possible for that girl's name to be Natalia because sixteen years ago the name was banned from Russian culture," Clint answered Coulson when it became apparent that Natasha wasn't going to. Coulson raised his eyebrows at Clint with a silent question, which Clint answered with a slight nod.

"So she's lying," Coulson reasoned.

"No, she's not." Natasha had started pacing now and both men followed her with their eyes. Clint could see the thoughts flying through her head, possible scenarios formulating.

"What is it Tasha?" He asked, concerned by the look on her face, "what didn't you tell us?" Natasha stopped pacing very suddenly.

"They know me. My face, at least."

"How do you know that?" Asked Coulson quietly after he recovered from his shock.

"She was afraid, that's why she didn't attack me, the way the other one attached Clint," she swallowed dryly, "she called me изменника."

Clint's Russian was good enough for that one.

He stood and pulled Natasha against him supportively. He could see the anguish bubbling under her skin, no matter how well she concealed it.

"So we're dealing with the Red Room then?" Natasha was already shaking her head before Coulson finished his question.

"No child from the Red Room would be named Natalia," explained Clint as Natasha resumed her pacing, "They would be the last ones to defy the government."

"Not just that," said Natasha, "they're too young. Based on their current age, they would have arrived in the US around age 12 at the latest. It would have taken them a minimum of one year, probably closer to two, to get out of the program and make it across the Atlantic, meaning that they would have had to leave the Red Room at age 11, at best," she shook her head, "it's not possible."

"So where are they from?" demanded Coulson. Clint sort of shrugged, and both of them looked at Natasha.

"Rebels," she answered, "their parents were probably rebels."

"But why would rebels consider you a traitor?" Clint asked confusedly, "I mean, wasn't it good for them that you abandoned the Widow program?"

"I'm not a traitor to them because I ditched the Widow program." Natasha spoke softly, hesitantly, as she always did when talking about her past, "It's because I forsook Russia, abandoned people to that hell while I escaped it." Clint's eyes darkened, his whole demeanor changing. Natasha looked back up at Coulson who sighed, "So their parents were rebels...what does that mean for us and, more importantly, them?"

"Depends," said Clint, already standing and slinging his bow over his shoulder.

"On what?" Coulson asked.

"On whether or not they know what they're hiding," said Natasha grimly. The two agents turned and left the office without another word.

* * *

Anastasia looked up from her pillow when the door opened, sending a strip of bright light across the bed. She expected to see the woman, back to torture her or something, but instead there was a young man in a nice suit.

"Please come with me, miss," he said politely, holding the door open for her. She rose and walked woodenly to the door. The man guided her down a series of hallways, including many complicated twists and turns. He finally stopped outside of one door, seemingly identical to every other one they had passed. He tapped quickly and the door swung open. He ushered Anastasia inside. When she saw who was sitting at the table she stood shocked for a moment.

"Talia!" She cried, running and throwing her arms around her sister. She barely even registered her guide stepping out and shutting the door.

"Stasia," Talia's voice was more of a sigh of muffled relief against her sister's shoulder. She pulled back after a second and gave Stasia a look up and down.

"Are you alright? Did they...do anything to you?" Anastasia shook her head,

"Just...talked. And you?" Her eyes searched Talia's face.

"No," Talia breathed out, tension fading from her muscles.

"Do we know who they are?" Asked Anastasia quietly.

"We told you," a man's voice said as the door opened, "we are S.H.I.E.L.D." The two agents who had been in their apartment entered the room. The girls went rigid.

"I think we all got off on the wrong foot," said the man, "although to be fair, that was your doing, not ours."

"We aren't the ones who burst into your apartment," muttered Natalia.

"Technically, you let us in," said the man.

"No," said Anastasia, "we let  _you_  in; she broke in." The woman shrugged at the accusation.

"It was necessary," she said, "he really can't speak Russian."

"Not helping, Nat," the man glared at the woman, "speaking of which, I believe some introductions are in order. I'm Agent Clint Barton and this is my partner-"

"Наталия Зобков," ( _Natalia Romanova)_ whispered the twins in unison. Clint froze mid-sentence and looked cautiously at Natasha. He personally knew both the agents that had ended up in medical for calling Natasha by her former name and neither of them had been very active for quite a while afterwards.

"I don't use that name anymore," Natasha's face was stone. She didn't appear angry, but Clint knew better. He knew that a motionless Natasha was much more dangerous than a moving one. He set a hand on her shoulder and drew her attention to him. Their eyes met for a moment, then he felt her relax under his grip. She turned back to the girls, "My name is Natasha Romanoff." She saw tension building in both of the girls, "but I am still the one you were taught about. I think the name you're looking for is the Black Widow." She did her best to keep her tone neutral, but it was hard, especially when the girls stepped back from the two agents, pressing themselves against the wall.

"Well now that that's out of the way," muttered Clint, "let's talk."

"You should know," added Natasha, "that we were serious when we said we just wanted to ask a few questions. The only reason we brought you in the way we did was because of your little conversation in the kitchen." Natalia and Anastasia looked at each other.

"Why did you want to talk to us?" Anastasia pulled herself off of the wall cautiously as she asked her question, warily eyeing both agents.

"Because of her," answered Clint, flipping a folder over to them. Anastasia caught it and opened to see a picture of Rani staring up at her.

"Actually, it's more about how she came to be with you," said Natasha before either of the girls could react.

"Where is she?" asked Natalia.

"Safe," answered Clint, " and you're not in trouble for saving her, because we know what was going to happen if you hadn't." The twins raised their eyebrows.

"Security cameras," Natasha raised a single eyebrow at them, " how do you think we found you?"

"So why are we in trouble then?" Anastasia asked the obvious question.

"You're not," Natasha gave them the one answer they weren't expecting.

"...Yet," added Clint, exchanging a look with Natasha. Natalia stopped whatever they had been planning to say.

"Can we back up a second? Cause I'm still not entirely sure why we're here if we aren't in trouble,"

"We were going to offer you a position," Clint gave up and went with bluntness, speaking directly to Anastasia, "based off of what we saw on the video feed, you could be cleared for active field duty in a matter of months." The twins locked eyes, neither wanting to think about what that meant.  _Of course that's what they wanted,_ thought Anastasia bitterly. The exchange lasted less than a second, but Natasha and Clint weren't considered S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best for no reason; both caught the terror in the girls' eyes and the defensive walls that went up immediately after it. The partners traded their own looks but continued the conversation as if nothing had happened.

"Assuming our analysis was correct," Natasha said, looking at Natalia, "we would have been offering you a position as well."

"Analysis?" Anastasia jumped on the two agents before Natalia could get a word out. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"We said that you weren't in trouble. The time you two spent in those rooms wasn't for interrogation. It was so we could learn about you, make some observations and draw our own conclusions."

"Assuming your analysis told you that I fight like Stasia, then yes you would have been offering me a position," said Natalia, "but for some reason, you aren't offering to either of us anymore. Why?"

"We hit a snag," said Clint.

"Two snags, actually," said Natasha. She looked Natalia dead in the eye, "one of them is you."

"The other one," said Clint, "is the content of your discussion in the apartment this morning."

"What about me?" asked Natalia quietly, looking as if she already knew the answer.

"Your name," said Natasha simply. Talia nodded.

"So," Clint looked between his partner and the two girls, "basically, you can tell us what's up with the two of you and we offer you a position once you're cleared,"

"Or we can force the information out of you and you spend some quality time in the less pleasant parts of S.H.I.E.L.D.," finished Natasha.

"Well that's one hell of a choice," muttered Stasia. Natasha smirked. The girls exchanged a look but they both knew that there was really no choice here. They stepped forward and sat in the chairs across from Clint and Natasha, dropping their defensive attitudes in a sign of defeat.

"Good choice," said Clint.

"Start talking," Natasha wasn't going to let them off the hook just because they gave in and the guardedness of her eyes proved that. The sisters looked at each other, not quite sure what to say. _Where do we even begin this story?_ Anastasia asked her sister with her eyes.  _Let's try the beginning,_  Talia answered . Clint and Natasha didn't miss this exchange either. They had had enough silent conversations while on missions, in debrief, and in private to recognize when one was happening in front of them. They also knew that to be able to have such a conversation you needed to be with the other person practically 24/7 or you wouldn't be able to read the details in their expression. Natalia began their story.

"My sister and I were born in Russia. By the time we were born our parents were part of a rebel group that had been rooted in Moscow for decades," she took a breath, steeling herself for what she had to say next, "Prior to meeting our father and joining the rebel cause, our mother worked for the Red Room." Natalia avoided the gaze from Natasha that she could feel burning a hole in her scalp as she stared at the floor. The silence in the room was deafening. Natalia took a breath and forced herself to continue speaking, "She knew about the Black Widow program of course, and she was one of the most important people to the rebel cause because of it." She stopped and looked up. She saw that Agent Barton had a hand resting on the Widow's arm again. The Widow was looking at him, her eyes searching his, looking for support. Natalia frowned slightly to herself.  _The Widow doesn't trust anyone, ever,_  she thought,  _and she never needs support. Who_ is _this Agent Barton?_

"You see," Anastasia picked up the story, "they believed the best way to tear down the government was to take out their latest weapon." She paused to let that sink in, "but it turned out that they didn't have to." Natasha tensed, knowing what was going to happen next in their timeline.

"Mother was 8 months pregnant when our parents heard that the Black Widow had somehow escaped the control of the Red Room," said Natalia, "They, along with the other rebel leaders, believed that the Widow would come to one of the rebel groups seeking refuge from her handlers."

"Our mother was in the hospital , going into labor, when our father brought her the news," Anastasia looked up at Natasha, "The Black Widow had fled to America, had become a contract killer. He said she was still a puppet, she simply answered to different masters now. He said that she abandoned the Russian people to the same hell they had been in for their entire lives." Natasha was careful to keep her face neutral, but inside she was boiling _. They know nothing,_ she thought murderously. Clint's grip on her arm tightened and she mentally shook herself.  _Pull it together Romanoff. This isn't the first time this has come up._ She forced herself to listen to the rest of the story. Anastasia was still speaking when Natasha refocused.

"...because our parents didn't know they were having twins."

"And Russia," said Natalia bitterly, "doesn't see the purpose of having two of the same person."

"So our parents pretended that they had a single daughter and they hid the other one," said Stasia, now looking at Natalia, "In an act of defiance, they named her Natalia."

"But not just defiance," Natalia's eyes bore into Clint and Natasha, "The rebels had a plan for me the minute they found out about me. A child that doesn't exist, that the government doesn't know about? They wanted to make me into their own personal Black Widow, down to the name. The rebels would kill for that asset. Turns out they didn't have to," she finished darkly. Natasha was frozen and Agent Barton motioned for the twins to stop for a moment.

"Tasha," he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward him, "Tasha, look at me." Her eyes found his face, showing him an infinity of agony, a past that he might never understand.

"It was supposed to stop," whispered Natasha, "I left, I took their hopes with me, I burned them so completely they were never going to come back, they could never haunt anyone's nights the way they haunt mine-"

"Stop it Tasha," Clint grabbed her by the chin and forced her to look into his eyes, "this is not your fault. You can't stop an idea Nat. There will always be someone out there who tries to revive what you destroy. You didn't do this." Natasha just looked at him not responding. Clint knew things were already way past bad when his partner lost control in the middle of an interrogation, so he did the only thing he could do.

"Natasha, I will tell Coulson that you can't handle this if you don't snap out of it." Natasha whipped her head around,

"You wouldn't."

"I would," Clint was deadly serious. Natasha burned him with her fiery glare but found herself matched by his icy determination. She sighed, and nodded, consenting. The team turned back to the girls and Agent Barton motioned for them to continue their story.

"So they started training Talia," Anastasia picked up the story, gently rubbing her sister's arm, "before she could even walk or talk. They were sure that the Red Room would create another Widow and they wanted to be able to fight back."

"Wait a second," Agent Barton spoke to the girls for the first time during their story, looking at Anastasia, "if Natalia was the one being trained, then where did you learn to fight?"

"A compromise," answered Anastasia, "you see, while Talia was being molded into a weapon, I was leading a normal life as the only daughter of my parents, going to school and birthday parties and such. Talia didn't get any of that-not even school."

"So we made a deal that she would teach me whatever she learned at school and in exchange I would teach her how to fight," said Natalia, "Our parents didn't care; they would have taught Stasia to fight eventually anyway, it was just a bit earlier than they had planned." Anastasia nodded,

"And someone had to teach Talia basic stuff like math and writing and both our parents had jobs so that pretty much left me," Anastasia shrugged, as if it was perfectly normal that she had half raised her twin sister. Natasha looked at Clint and asked the inevitable question,

"What went wrong?"

 


	3. No Pain

**Chapter 3: No Pain**

Natalia opened her mouth to speak when she felt Anastasia squeeze her hand and saw her shake her head. Talia stopped and Stasia started to speak instead.

"Things were relatively fine for a long time," she began, "somehow, we kept Talia a secret and we both lived our lopsided lives as happily as we could." She shook her head slightly, then said, "It fell apart when we were eleven. I came home from school that afternoon really excited because we were doing a poetry unit in class and Talia loved poetry. But when I walked in to our house…" she winced and looked down, swallowing, "…there were two men lying on the floor, dead." Stasia looked up at the two agents expecting to see expressions of horror and disgust. Instead she found looks of grim understanding.  _What can they have possibly been through to look like that?_  She wondered, but she didn't have time to linger over the thought. "I was shocked, but not wholly surprised. Our parents had been preparing us for things like this since we were born. I knew not to scream. Screaming brought people and people asked questions. So I did the only thing that I could do. I ran to Talia's room. I expected to see her going to pieces or crying, but she was totally calm. She was just sitting on her bed, flipping through this old magazine." Stasia looked over at Natalia who was gripping the edge of the table tight enough to turn her knuckles white. Both of the agents had noted that fact as well. Anastasia started to speak again, but Natalia cut her off.

"We could both hear our parents through the wall," she whispered, "they were yelling at each other. They had been fighting for a long time now, ever since мама first gave me a weapon. Папа didn't want that…" she sort of trailed off, lost in terrible memories. Natasha could see her own story being replayed right in front of her eyes, there watching Natalia. Softly she said,

"What did they say?" Natalia looked at her with haunted eyes.

"Вы обещали он никогда бы в том, что она не будет ... оружия!  _(You promised that it wouldn't go this far, that she wouldn't be a…a weapon!)_

Вы сумасшедший Дмитрий. Что вы думаете она будет, защитник? Мы даже назвал ее Наталья. Что вас случайно, что я выбрал это имя?  _(You're a fool Dmitry. What did you think she was going to be, a defender? We even named her Natalia. Did you think it an accident that I chose that name?)_

Это неправильно Алена. Вы ее? Спокойной, если она просто связали ее башмак или что-то, когда она унесла жизни двух человек. Не роняйте раскаяния. Он не прав и вы не хотите, чтобы на нашу дочь.  _(This is wrong Alena. Did you see her? As calm as if she just tied her shoe or something, when she took the lives of two men. Not a drop of remorse. It's not human. You shouldn't want this for our daughter.)_

У меня есть только одна дочь."  _(I only have one daughter)_  Tears were pouring down Natalia's face as she choked out the last words. Anastasia pulled her sister close to her, wrapping her in a tight embrace and holding her together as sobs tore her body apart. Clint was staring pointedly at Natasha, waiting for her to translate the Russian for him, but she waved him off.

"Our father lost it at that," said Anastasia quietly, stroking Talia's hair soothingly, "He screamed at our mother and she just…walked out of the house. I thought that that was the end of it, that we would be okay, but I guess Папа knew better, knew that мама and the other leaders weren't willing to just let their main investment walk away, not when they had just seen how well she worked. He came into Talia's room and he told us to pack a small backpack each, with just enough essentials to get by."

"He smuggled you out," Natasha wasn't asking a question, but Anastasia nodded anyway.

"Where is he then?" Natasha shot Clint a how-can-you-be-that-dense look and was about to berate him but Natalia beat her to the punch.

"She said he smuggled  _us_  out, not himself."

"He sacrificed himself to get us out," Anastasia spoke with a pain-filled voice.

"We don't even know if he's still alive," whispered Talia.

"The last thing he said to us was to take care of each other, and not to forget," It was Anastasia's turn to break down and the sight of the girls who had been so resilient at the beginning reduced to puddles of tears was the breaking point for Natasha.

"That's enough," She was deadly serious and Clint knew better than to argue when she used that tone. They both left the girls in the room and went out into the hallway.

* * *

"Well?" asked Clint quietly.

"I'm pretty sure you already know what I think," answered Natasha, matching his volume.

"I dunno Nat..." Clint looked doubtful. Natasha read what he was thinking in his eyes.

"They're not lying Clint," she said firmly, "trust me."

"I do," Clint said softly, "let's go talk to Coulson."

* * *

Coulson was waiting for them when they arrived back at central command. He took one look at Natasha's face and said,

"So they're cleared then?"

"If they were sent here for a reason, they don't know what it is," Clint informed him.

"Honestly sir, I don't think they were sent here with a purpose," interjected Natasha, "I think their father made a different call." She chose those words purposefully, knowing the effect they would have and she was right. Clint froze and gave her a stunned look, but she was determinately holding Coulson's gaze. Coulson nodded.

"Duly noted, Agent Romanoff. You are both dismissed, but please remain on base." Natasha raised an eyebrow at Coulson and Clint gave him a look. Coulson sighed.

"Sorry guys, Fury ordered that you both be kept on hand and that means no leaving base." The two agents rolled their eyes and nodded assent, turning to leave.

"And for love of Steve Rodgers stay AWAY from the trainees!" Coulson called after them. Nat grinned at Clint and the pair of them took off in a sprint toward the training room.

* * *

Coulson knocked on the door to Fury's office.

"Enter!" came the gruff response of the director. Coulson stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He wasn't carrying any kind of report-he hadn't bothered Romanoff or Barton with that. He trusted both of their judgments' and knew that the go ahead by Strike Team Delta, especially the Russian half of that team, would be good enough for Fury.

"Make it snappy Coulson, I have to go meet with the damn Council in five minutes." Fury was standing with his back to the door, hands clasped behind his back, staring out the ceiling-to-floor windows in his office.

"It's about the twins that were brought in earlier sir."

"What about them?"

"They've been cleared, sir." Fury turned around from the window.

"By who?"

"Barton and Romanoff, sir." Fury nodded.

"Good. Then our arrangement can proceed. Inform the agents  _first_  and have them go in to talk to the girls."

"Understood sir." Fury turned back to the window and Coulson headed for the door.

"Oh, and Coulson?" Coulson turned back toward the director.

"Yes, sir?"

"Keep them away from the other recruits." Coulson smiled.

"The agents or the girls, sir?" Fury snorted and waved Coulson out, turning back to the window. Coulson grinned and made his way to the elevator.

* * *

Coulson fully expected the training room to be in shambles when he finally made his way down to it, but was surprised to see the newest batch of recruits clustered just inside the door, looking like they were watching a movie. A few more steps told Coulson why and he sighed internally.  _We just can't win._ Barton and Romanoff had taken over the training room, although in all fairness they  _were_  using it for a training exercise. Coulson supposed the recruits had never seen one-on-one combat executed the way that Barton and Romanoff did it. They had obviously been at it for a while, judging by the knives and arrows that had lodged themselves into the walls. At the moment the pair was in the middle of the floor. Clint swiped at Nat with his bow which she easily dodged. She sent a retaliatory kick at his legs only to find him gone, shot up into the rafters on his grappling hook arrow. She shot her own grappling hook and was up quick enough to catch him off balance. She kicked him with both feet, sending him over the edge of the beam. Clint, still attached to his grappling hook, swung a full 360 and landed deftly behind Natasha. They both balanced easily on the narrow surface, throwing and blocking kicks and punches in a well-known dance. They had plenty of practice with this type of fighting and it was perfectly comfortable for both of them. Clint ducked under one of Nat's kicks aimed for his chest.

"Coulson's down there," he said.

"I know," Natasha grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm. Clint grabbed her leg with his free hand and threw her into the air. She spun easily and landed behind him, locking her arms around his neck.

"Think we should talk to him?" asked Clint, rolling into a somersault and coming out of it with Nat pinned beneath his knees.

"Probably," Natasha wrapped her thighs around Clint and pulled him off of her. She back flipped off the rafter and landed in front of Coulson, Clint barely a second behind her.

"News for us, sir?" asked Barton.

"You have a new assignment," said Coulson, not even batting an eye at the sudden appearance of his agents.

"Where to?" Natasha asked.

"Nowhere," both agents frowned at Coulson's answer, "I said assignment, not mission," he explained, "you've both been put on a specialized training detail." Natasha was the first to process out what that meant.

"Fury approved the twins," she said, "and he wants  _us_ to train them?"

"Fury's spent the last however many years trying to hide us from the recruits," said Clint, "Why the change of heart?"

"These aren't any old recruits Barton," said Coulson, "We feel that given the circumstance of their recruitment and their unique situation the pair of you would make the best mentors." Natasha snorted.

"Больше никто не говорит о недостаточно хорошем Русском и близнецов." _(More like no one else speaks good enough Russian to keep up with what the girls might say)_  Coulson shot her a glare and she smiled angelically.

"You still need to talk to the girls and see if they're on board. Get on that."

"Right away, sir." Barton spoke for the pair of them. Coulson nodded, satisfied, and left the training room. Clint and Natasha started out the door.

"Well go on, back to work!" Natasha snapped at the recruits who were still huddled by the door. The jumps and scared looks caused enough laughter to carry the two agents down the hall.

* * *

Ten minutes later they were standing outside the door to Anastasia and Natalia's room, Natasha in blue jeans and a black hoodie and Clint in black jeans and a white t-shirt. With a nod from her partner, Natasha pushed open the door and the pair reentered the room. The twins had evidently cried themselves out because they were dry eyed and composed, sitting behind the table where Clint and Natasha had left them.

"So what's the verdict?" Asked Natalia, looking somber, as if she expected to be kept in S.H.I.E.L.D. by force.

"You've been cleared," Clint told them. Identical expressions of surprise flashed across the girls' faces.

"So does that mean..." Anastasia let her question hang unfinished. Natasha nodded.

"We've been authorized to offer you a position here at S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Define position," countered Natalia.

"You'll spend an undetermined period of time training. Once your mentor clears you from training you advance to active duty and can be sent on missions with a level one clearance. The more missions you complete, coupled with your skill level determines how quickly your clearance level increases." Clint gave them a basic summary of early S.H.I.E.L.D. life.

"How many together in a training group?" inquired Anastasia. Clint and Natasha shared a glance.

"Normally anywhere between twenty and thirty," answered Natasha, " but," she held up a hand to stop Natalia interjecting, "Director Fury has made different arrangements for the pair of you should you choose to accept the offer."

"You will be trained individually, sort of," said Clint in response to the girls' questioning looks, "that is, you two will be trained together, separate from the other new recruits." Anastasia nodded, but Natalia looked wary of the proposal.

"Who's going to be training us?" Natasha and Clint exchanged another look, then Natasha responded slowly,

"Agent Barton and myself have been assigned to your training." She had thought that she was ready for the looks she was going to get when they found that out, but the anxiety that filled their eyes still stabbed her like a cold knife. She met their gaze coolly, but Clint had apparently had enough.

"Look you two," he growled at them, "I don't know what sort of shit they told you about Natalia Romanovna back in Russia, but you need to get something straight. This," he gestured to his partner, "is Natasha Romanoff and she has been through hell and back to prove her loyalty to S.H.I.E.L.D. She isn't going to kill you and by god you should consider a privilege that Fury is taking her off active duty for you because she is the best damn agent we have!" Clint broke off his angry rant, breathing hard. Natasha set a hand on his arm.

"Clint," she said softly, "it's okay. It's not their fault." Clint glared at her, then sighed and set his head in his hands.

"I know Tasha." The twins watched the exchange curiously, both thinking similar thoughts:  _No way these two are just partners._ The girls glanced at each other. Stasia raised a brow at her sister. _How do you think he got this close to the Black Widow?_ Talia frowned and shrugged.  _Maybe she really_ is  _different._ Anastasia sent Natalia a knowing look.  _Only one way to find out._ With a sigh of defeat, Talia nodded.  _What the hell. Let's join S.H.I.E.L.D._ Natasha managed to calm Clint down and they both looked up. The twins shared a final glance, then spoke as one.

"We're in."

* * *

The rumors ran through S.H.I.E.L.D. like wildfire that night and the next morning.  _Barton and Romanoff have protégées,_ whispered agents to each other,  _wonder what's so special about these two._ So it was no surprise to Clint or Natasha that the training room was overly crowded when they arrived the next morning.  _We don't have time to deal with this,_ Clint thought at Natasha.  _I got it,_ she thought back, stepping up calmly. She pulled a knife from one of her thigh straps and flipped it in the air, catching it easily. Clint grinned, understanding her intent. He swung his bow off of his shoulder and nocked an arrow. Natasha whipped her arm back lightning fast and sent her knife spinning through the air toward the ceiling. Barton drew his bow with equal speed and shot the knife out if the sky before it hit its intended target. The pair of them began a practiced routine of this, Natasha spinning and throwing her knives at each of the targets positioned around the room and Clint shooting them down before they landed. It didn't take long for the crowd that was milling about the training room to get the meaning behind the numerous projectiles flying past their heads. Reluctantly, the mob dissipated, leaving Clint and Natasha alone. Clint glanced toward the door and back at Natasha who was still calmly throwing knives at a target. She spoke mid-windup, without even looking at the door.

"You aren't going to get a productive training from out there." Anastasia and Natalia stepped through the open doorway. Natasha grabbed her knives from the target and tucked them in their various hidden locations on her person. She and Clint came to stand in front of their new trainees. They were dressed identically in black shorts with white accents and white tank tops. They had both tied their hair back in high ponytails and were wearing gray sneakers. Their mentors both mentally grinned. The girls probably thought they were clever and that they would be difficult to tell apart, which would probably have been true, for anyone other than Barton and Romanoff. Clint got straight to the point.

"Alright we're gonna start off with some basic evaluations. We need to determine your skill level and we want to see how you work individually compared to how you work in a team." The girls nodded.

"Where do we start?" asked Anastasia.

"Wherever you like," said Natasha, who had gone back to her knives. Clint shrugged, then turned his back on the girls, picked up his bow, and stepped up to the firing line. The twins looked at each other, rather bewildered. Natalia recovered quickly and didn't hesitate any longer in choosing her starting point-she was all too familiar with training facilities like these, although she would admit that S.H.I.E.L.D. was slightly better equipped than what she was used to. She went straight to the punching bags, preferring to work with simply her limbs. Both Natasha and Clint were watching her, for all that they appeared to be absorbed in their own activities, and they knew what her decision meant. The type of person that was trained to trust only their own body for a mission was specific. Both of the agents was trying not to think about what that meant the sixteen year old girl in front of them had been raised for. Stasia took a bit longer, considering her options.  _That only makes sense,_ thought Natasha,  _she wasn't raised to treat decisions as life or death matters. She might be physically trained, but mentally she's a complete novice._ Eventually, Anastasia's gaze landed on one of the lesser used items in the training room. She braced herself against the floor where she was standing, then pushed off in a wickedly fast sprint. She bent her knees and sprung up at just the right moment to catch the ropes that were dangling from the rafters. Clint barely glanced up as he loosed his next shot, but the bit that he did see was enough-she was good. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she twirled and twisted in the realm above their heads. She didn't bat an eye as she let go of one rope and flew toward a different one, didn't even flinch when she caught the rope between her legs and was holding herself up by the sheer strength of her thighs.  _Damn,_ Clint shook himself mentally and refocused on his shooting,  _I haven't seen anyone do that on the ropes since Tasha._ He looked over at Natasha to see if she had noticed Anastasia, but she was too busy watching Natalia and with one glance Clint could see why.  _Shit,_ he thought, slinging his bow over his shoulder and moving over to stand next to Natasha. Natalia was performing a simple training routine, one had Clint had seen done many times-by Natasha. It didn't take a genius to put together why they both had an identical training regimen. Clint took the knife from Natasha's shaking hand and put his hands on her arms.

"Tasha," he said quietly, forcing her to look at him, "you said you could handle it."

"I can, Barton," she answered, looking away from his face, "let me deal with this."

"It's not something you can change Tasha. She is what she is and  _it's not your fault_."

"I know Clint!" she snapped, jerking herself out of his grasp, "But if she 'is what she is', then she is like me and dammit Clint that is  _not_ a good thing! She doesn't need to be like me. It will drive her mad!"

* * *

Anastasia looked down at their mentors, catching snippets of their conversation.

"Talia," she called softly, nodding toward the two agents. Natalia stopped mid-punch and looked over. She turned back to Stasia who jerked her head, inviting her sister to join her in the rafters. Talia deftly launched herself into the air and clambered up to her sister's perch.

"Look at her," Stasia marveled, "she's so emotional."

"Only with him," replied Natalia, "she's different when other people are around."

"Yeah, I've noticed," said Anastasia, "she's more like the Black Widow then."

"I wonder what makes him so special," Natalia pondered, "how do you gain the trust of the Black Widow?"

"Maybe he was the reason she joined S.H.I.E.L.D." Anastasia voiced her current speculation, "I mean, wouldn't it make sense to have her partnered with whoever recruited her?"

"Except if he recruited her, that means that he was one of the ones sent to kill her and he didn't. That means he would have some sort of personal connection with her. That would make a dangerous partnership." Natalia gazed down at the couple on the floor, "Then again…" Anastasia smirked.

"My point exactly. I'm surprised you didn't pick that up first."

"There's a lot of unresolved tension between them," said Natalia defensively, "It's hard to distinguish sometimes." Both of the twins turned their attention back to the two agents in question.

* * *

Frustration simmered in Clint's eyes. Part of him understood why Natasha couldn't distance herself from these girls, but the other part wanted to just shake her until she saw sense. There was a look in her eyes now that he was all too familiar with, one that told him he wasn't going to be able to help her right now-not that he wouldn't try under normal circumstances. Unfortunately, these weren't normal circumstances. He looked up to the rafters where the girls had stopped their training and were sitting with their heads leaned together, whispering to each other. He ground his teeth together angrily.  _I don't have time to deal with all of this right now._

"Oi! You two! Did we say you could have a break?" The twins jumped guiltily and each slid down a rope, heading back to the training equipment. He turned back to his partner.

"Take a walk, Nat. Come back when you're able to do our job." He released his grip on her and she stormed angrily out the door. Clint sighed.  _I don't get paid enough for this._

 


	4. No Gain

**Chapter 4: No Gain**

Trainees and agents jumped out of Natasha's path as she raced down the hall. Many of them had learned the hard way not to get in the way of an angry Black Widow. She punched her way down the hall and through the door to a small closet she had made her own personal space. She threw herself at the punching bag, a scream finally ripping through her clenched teeth. She poured out the frustration and guilt that had built up inside of her since they first brought the girls in. Natasha let her muscles take over, every kick and punch that she had ever committed to memory, that she had ever used to take out a target, they all steamed out of her in a passionate rage.

"Natasha." She whipped around without hesitation, about to sock the speaker in the jaw, but she stopped mid-punch when she saw who it was.

"You should know better than to sneak up on me Coulson."

"I'm more concerned with the fact that I was able to sneak up on you," said her handler, worry creasing his face.

"You weren't," muttered Natasha, spinning away from the door, "but that doesn't mean you weren't trying." She walked over and picked up a knife, casually tossing in straight into the center of her wooden target.

"You can't walk away from them, Natasha." As usual, Coulson knew exactly what was going through her head.

"Why not? It's not like they want to work with me." She held her voice deceptively steady and threw another knife at the target.

"They don't know  _you_ yet; they only know what they've been told." Coulson took a few steps closer, "and as you so wisely told Barton, that isn't their fault."

"It might not be their fault, but it is how they are," countered Natasha.

"You're the only one who can help them change Natasha. Barton can try all he wants, but-"

"They aren't going to change, Coulson! People who are raised the way those girls were, trained to be a certain way, those people never change!" Natasha's final knife collided with the target with enough force to knock it over. For a moment, only the sound of Natasha's heavy breathing filled the room. Coulson turned for the door, then paused and said,

"You know, they told that to Barton too, in the beginning." Natasha's breath cut off and she froze in place. Coulson nodded to himself and left her alone.

* * *

Clint took a moment to pull himself together after Natasha left. He mentally shook himself, then turned to face the girls. They were both working quietly with the weights, tossing them back and forth between each other in a balanced exercise.

"Alright, let's try something," Clint led the girls over to a door.

"This is a simulation room," he told them, "basically, it gives you a scenario, usually violent, and you have to fight your way out of it to end the simulation." The girls nodded. It was high tech, not something they had ever seen before, but it seemed easy enough to understand.

"Do we run this together or separate?" Asked Anastasia.

"Both," answered Clint, "so who wants to start?" Natalia looked at her sister.

"I will," she said.

"Good." Clint opened the door for her.

"Do I get any weapons or anything?"

"Everything you need is in there," said Clint. Natalia shrugged and walked into the room without a second thought. Clint looked over at Anastasia.

"You keep on with some basic training until she finishes," he told her. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I don't get to watch?"

"Not allowed to. Only trainers and handlers can watch a simulation."

"Why?" Clint shrugged.

"Protocol." Stasia snorted at that and Clint hid a smile as she turned away.  _I'm gonna get along just fine with that one._  He took his place in the observation booth and started Natalia's simulation. The environment that sprang into being around her looked vaguely familiar and when Clint processed why he internally groaned.  _Thank god Tasha isn't here._ He hadn't been present for Natasha's first simulation, the one they had used to test her, but she had told him about it. It was a fairly simple solve; all you had to do was disable the bomb, grab the gun, and shoot the guards. Natasha had solved her simulation in a rather unconventional way and if Clint was right, Natalia was about to do the same thing. He watched her grab a knife and quickly slice three wires, no hesitation. Four guards ran into the room as soon as the beeping stopped and started for Natalia. Without turning around she fired the knife she was holding into one man's gut, successfully taking him out. She pushed up with her legs and wrapped her arms around the ceiling beam. The second guard rushed her and she clamped his neck between her legs, snapping it in a single motion. She threw his dead weight at the third guard, knocking him down. She jumped over him for the moment, rolling into a somersault. She arched her back and kicked the last guard square in the jaw. He went down and stayed there. Natalia reached behind her head and grabbed the wrist of the man about to punch her and she flipped him on his back. As soon as he was immobilized the lights in the simulation room lifted. Clint sighed and shook his head.  _Damn Russians. What is so difficult about using the gun?_

* * *

Anastasia watched Agent Barton come out of the observation booth from her vantage point on the ropes. Natalia emerged from the simulation room glistening with sweat. Agent Barton motioned for Stasia to come down and she descended quickly to the floor. Natalia flashed her a grin before heading in the direction of the knives. Agent Barton didn't say a word, just held the door open. With her ponytail swinging behind her, Anastasia entered the simulation.

She found herself standing on a cliff, overlooking a city. Lying by the edge of the cliff were two weapons. Stasia cast her eye over the city, quickly processing what she was supposed to do. She grabbed the sniper rifle from the ground and settled herself into the prone position. She took careful aim at the only window in the tallest skyscraper that was lit up. A man stood in front of the window. Stasia breathed out slowly and pulled the trigger, eliminating her target. She jumped and spun around when she heard a twig snap behind her. She found herself faced with several assailants.  _Damn,_ she thought. She knew that the rifle wouldn't do her any good at this close range and although she could fight hand-to-hand, it wasn't exactly her favorite thing. So instead she decided to try something risky and very stupid. She reached out with her left hand and grabbed the other weapon. The bow settled in her grip and she slung the quiver over her shoulder. One of the arrows looked funny, but she didn't have time to figure it out.  _This is probably a good time to remember your never shot a bow before, Anastasia,_ her subconscious chided her.  _Guess I better figure it out,_ Stasia quipped at the little voice. She whipped an arrow out and drew the string back and let go. Without waiting to see where it landed she loaded another arrow and shot. She loosed a third and fourth arrow and found herself staring at four bodies on the ground.  _Well,_ she thought,  _that went well._ She looked around. She could hear footsteps coming up the path that the other men had come up and she knew she needed a way out-fast. Looking at her quiver, the funny arrow caught her eye again.  _No way..._ she took a closer look,  _that can't be..._ she shook her head-no time for speculation. She loaded the funny looking arrow and took a deep breath.  _Guess it's just a day of stupid decisions,_ she thought and she took a flying leap off the cliff. She spun and shot the arrow mid-fall. A rope flew after the arrow, one end still attached to the bow. Anastasia clumsily swung under the cliff and landed on the inlet underneath it. She felt a breath of relief escape her lips as the lights lifted and she found herself back in the simulation room. Agent Barton flung open the door, a look of shock still lingering on his face.

"Get out here," he ordered, his tone bordering on angry.

"What is it?" asked Anastasia, "Did I do something wrong or…?"

"Is that the first time you've shot a bow?" demanded Agent Barton

"Yes..." said Stasia uncertainly. Barton just stared at her wordlessly while she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "Why is it such a big deal?"

"Because there are only two people in the history of S.H.I.E.L.D. who have ever solved that particular simulation the way that you just solved it," Natasha walked back into the training room and processed the situation in less than a second, "Most people don't even touch the bow."

"Oh." Anastasia shrugged, "It just seemed like the best option to me. Would you stop gawking at me?" The last part was directed at Clint, who blushed, embarrassed, and looked away.

"Sorry," he muttered. Natasha laughed.

"Oh c'mon Clint, lighten up. Someone was going to come along and do it eventually." Clint rolled his eyes good naturedly at her.

"Yeah, yeah." He shot a sideways glance at Anastasia and it was Natasha's turn to roll her eyes.

"Why don't you go get her set up with some equipment and I'll work on knives with Natalia, then we can run the partner simulation?"

"Sounds good to me," Clint shot a grin at Natasha, then beckoned to Anastasia and the two of them headed into a room off of the main training center. Natasha went to the target next to Natalia's and picked up a knife. Natalia's target was already littered with thrown knives, some having hit their mark, others not so much. Natasha drew her arm back and flicked her wrist, sending the knife she was holding downrange. Natalia was very determinedly not saying a word; she simply continued her own throwing regimen. After a few minutes though, she glanced at Natasha's target and saw a group of knives in the center, fit into about the space of a half dollar. Natalia's determination finally broke.

"How do you get the knives so close together?"

"Practice," answered Natasha, sticking another knife in her target. She turned and looked at Natalia. "How long have you been throwing knives?" Natalia shrugged.

"As long as I can remember," she said, "but my groups have never been that tight."

"Then there's something off in your form." Natasha stated the fact bluntly, spinning a knife on her right pointer finger. Natalia sighed. She could see that Natasha was being cautious, not wanting to engage too much. Understandable, given the girls' previous reactions to her. But now Natalia was getting her first good look at the woman she had been taught to both fear and revere for her entire life. She thought about the woman that she and Stasia had seen from the rafters, the one that was everything the Black Widow wasn't supposed to be and Natalia made a decision.

"Do you think you could help me with that?" Natasha looked at Natalia's eyes-something had changed there. A wall that had been lurking just behind her pupils had been lowered.  _She's letting me in,_ realized Natasha. She kept her expression neutral and said,

"Sure. That's why I'm here." Natalia nodded and picked up a knife. Natasha didn't put her knife down, but walked around so that she had a better angle on Natalia's throwing form. As soon as Natalia drew back her arm, Natasha saw the main issue.

"Tighten up your core," she said.

"What?" Natalia looked over with a confused look on her face. Natasha took a few steps closer and set her hand lightly on her trainee's stomach. Natalia didn't flinch, but instead became increasingly still.

"Tighten up these muscles right here," said Natasha quietly. Natalia nodded, doing as Natasha instructed. She whipped back her arm and sent the knife flipping end-over-end at the target-right into the center. She grinned at Natasha, forgetting for just a second who she was working with. Natasha smiled back, seeing the light in Natalia's eyes.  _Maybe Coulson's right,_ she shook her head and laughed to herself,  _who am I kidding; Coulson's_ always  _right._

* * *

Clint practically dragged Anastasia into the equipment room.

"Hey!" said Stasia, "Slow down! What's the big deal?" Clint turned to her, his excitement finally showing through on his face. Anastasia slowly started to catch on. "Only two people…were you the other one?" she asked. Clint nodded, grinning.

"I haven't had anyone interested in archery since I joined S.H.I.E.L.D." he said, "and I'm sorry if you're not actually interested; if you just hit every target you aimed at and that was the first time you shot a bow you have serious natural talent and I'm gonna teach you everything I can." He turned to the wall, frowning at the selection. He finally grabbed a bow that had a muddy brown riser and black limbs.

"This will have to do for now; we can get one custom made for you later." His smile widened even more, "Trust me, the custom made ones are much more fun." Anastasia eyed his bow, which was still slung over his shoulder. She took the bow and arrows that he handed to her.

"Should be fun," she said and followed him back out to the shooting range. He pointed to a black line on the ground.

"This is the firing line, although if you ask the SciOps agents they'll tell you that you don't actually  _fire_  a bow, since no chemical reaction takes place when you release the string, but we aren't about to mess with a system that's been working for as long as ours has. Go ahead and straddle the line-you're right handed, yes?" Clint looked at Anastasia for confirmation and she nodded. "Okay, so stand with your left foot toward the target." She did as he instructed, the weight of the bow already feeling comfortable in her hand and the quiver natural on her back. "Now grab an arrow; the odd color fletch is called the index fletch. Make sure it's pointing at you when you nock the arrow." Clint rolled his eyes, "Once we get you your own equipment this won't be an issue because custom made bows can be designed to overcome the need to nock the arrows a certain way." Anastasia nodded, clicking the arrow on to the string as directed. "Alright, now shoot," Clint told her.

"Just like that?" she asked, surprised. Clint gave her a look.

"You did it in the simulation," he said, "it's no different out here." Stasia shrugged and lifted the bow, pulling back the string and let an arrow fly at the five yard target. She thought that Agent Barton was going to start crying, he was so happy when it landed dead center in the bulls-eye.

"That's quite incredible," he told her once he calmed down a bit, "there's a few things form-wise to work on, but we can iron those out no problem. The real fun is going to be training you to fight with a bow."

"Fight with a bow?" questioned Anastasia, "don't you just shoot people with it?" Barton rolled his eyes.

"That's what everyone thinks, but there's a whole other range of uses for your bow in a fight situation." Anastasia glanced away from her mentor and saw Agent Romanoff looking over at them.

"Вы получите в качестве оправдания ему,"  _(You'll have to excuse him)_  said the red-headed assassin, "Он действительно в целом стрельба из лука дело."  _(He's really into the whole archery thing)_

"Я могу сказать,"  _(I can tell)_ replied Stasia, amused.

"Но я думаю это не без оснований,"  _(I suppose it's not without good reason)_ Romanoff shrugged, "Он лишь в."  _(He is rather good at it)_

"Так что я слышал,"  _(So I've heard)_ responded Anastasia, "По всей видимости я слишком."  _(Apparently I am too)_ Natasha chuckled and it quickly turned into a full out laugh when she caught sight of the glare Clint was shooting at her.

"Not funny Nat."

"Actually, I thought it was." Clint growled at her and had shot an arrow at her before either of the twins could blink.  _Whoa,_ thought Stasia,  _guess good was a bit of an understatement._ Natasha didn't flinch at all, on the contrary she looked almost bored, as if this happened between the two of them often.  _It probably does,_  mused Natalia. Natasha simply flicked a knife with pinpoint accuracy and sliced Clint's arrow cleanly in half. Clint glowered at her for another moment, then swung his bow over his shoulder again.

"Let's try that partner simulation now," he said, leading their little quartet over to the simulation room. Both the twins walked in without hesitation this time and Natasha and Clint retired to the observation room to watch. The two agents shared a look when they saw the simulation that was running.

"Fury or Coulson totally rigged these simulations," said Natasha.

"It could be a coincidence that they're running the same test we ran in our partner evaluation," Even as he spoke, Clint sounded like he didn't believe it. Natasha barely spared enough energy to shoot him an are-you-for-real-look.

"Well let's see how  _they_  solve it," she muttered.

* * *

The twins looked around as the simulation took effect. All of a sudden out of nowhere, ten plus assailants sprang up all around them. Anastasia spied something off to her left. She darted over and grabbed the bow and arrows while Natalia went straight for the hand-to-hand approach. Stasia spun around.

"Talia, duck!" she cried, drawing back her bow and shooting without waiting to see if her sister had complied or not. Her arrow took down one of Natalia's attackers. Stasia quickly spun and began firing off shots at the ones coming straight for her, until one got too close for her to shoot him. She thought about what Agent Barton had said and instinctively shifted so that both of her hands were gripping the riser and she slashed at the man with the bow, quickly following it with a kick to the temple to knock him down. The girls continued in this way for a few minutes until the large group of men lay powerless on the floor. Suddenly a little girl peeked around the door frame, looking absolutely terrified.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?" inquired Anastasia, still slightly out of breath. The little girl didn't speak, just shook her head and ran away. Stasia started after her but Natalia said,

"Wait," Anastasia looked at her questioningly. "Do you hear that?"

"What?" asked Stasia. Then all of a sudden she heard it too-the telltale beeping of a bomb. She shot Natalia a look, then started running after the little girl.

"Stasia! We have to get out!" called Natalia.

"Find that bomb!" was Anastasia's only reply. Natalia rolled her eyes in frustration, but began a quick evaluation to find the best place to plant a bomb in the room. Meanwhile, Anastasia flew down the hall, chasing the little one who kept disappearing behind corners. She finally caught up to her, only to come face-to-face with a whole room full of people. The best description Stasia had for it was civilians in a war zone.  _They must be here to die,_ realized Anastasia,  _I have to get them out._ She gritted her teeth,  _out won't do them any good, that's just throwing them to the sharks._  She frantically scanned the room, searching for something,  _anything_ , that would help her save those people. Her eyes landed on a patch of floor and she found their way out.

* * *

Natalia had unearthed the bomb after shifting the desk and several cabinets so that she could lift un the loose floorboard that was conveniently concealing the bomb. Now she was kneeling, carefully examining the tangle of wires before her. She took her knife and carefully snipped one of them, keeping herself very calm as the beeping accelerated. Focusing, she identified and cut the next wire in seconds. She hesitated over the third one, knowing that once she cut the wire the simulation would end.  _Where is Anastasia?_

Anastasia was still in the room with the people who were trapped. She had shifted a wardrobe away from the patch of floor she was eyeing. She fell to her knees and carefully pressed around the seam, confirming what she had thought-the floor was uneven.  _A trapdoor_ , she thought triumphantly. She took an arrow out of the quiver that she was still wearing on her back and worked it in between the trapdoor and the wall, wiggling and pushing it in until she could leverage the door open. The hidden entrance popped up and she waved the captives down into the protection of an underground bunker, slamming the door tightly shut after the last one was in. Anastasia turned and took off sprinting, knowing that she had to get back to Natalia fast.

* * *

Talia was eyeing the timer on the clock with rapidly growing anxiety.

00:10…..00:09….

_Stasia's not going to make it back in time,_ she thought frantically.

"Stasia!" she called in the direction of the empty doorway.

00:06…..00:05…..00:04….

Talia looked down at her knife that was ready to end all of this, but something told her that Stasia needed to be in the room with her.

00:03…00:02…00:01…

"Talia!" The cry echoed in the room and Natalia pulled up, slicing the wire. She saw Anastasia dive into the room and land beside her as explosions erupted around them.

 


	5. Work Hard

**Chapter 5: Work Hard**

Anastasia opened her eyes to find herself staring at the wall of the simulation room. She rolled her head to the side and saw Natalia lying next to her. Stasia pushed herself into a sitting position and winced, pushing a hand against her ribs as the blood rushed down from her head, clouding her vision. She cradled her other arm in her lap, cringing when she tried to move her wrist.  _Well that's probably broken._

"Talia," she said. Her sister groaned and looked over at Stasia.

"What happened?" asked Natalia, looking very confused.

"You got mostly blown up." Both twins turned to the door and saw Clint and Natasha standing there.

"Blown up? I thought this was a simulation." Stasia looked at their mentors.

"We'll it wouldn't be a very effective simulation if it didn't have some consequences for the actions you took in it, would it?" Natasha snorted.

"So why were we only mostly blown up?" questioned Natalia.

"Because you only mostly did it wrong," answered Clint, "although the definition of 'right' for this simulation varies depending on who you ask," he added, rolling his eyes. Natalia struggled into a sitting position, gasping when she moved her left ankle.

"We should probably get you two patched up," Natasha sent a sidelong glance in Clint's direction, hesitating. "Are either of you dying to see what Medical looks like?"

"Not exactly...but how else are we going to get the supplies we need?" asked Anastasia.

"We have them," Clint told her. Talia raised an eyebrow.

"You guys have the supplies to treat broken limbs without going to medical?" she asked, disbelief coloring her tone. The two agents shared a look.

"Clint really hates medical," said Natasha after a pause.

"Don't act like you don't Tasha," her partner muttered in retort. Natasha rolled her eyes at him.

"The point is that we can get you both fixed up back in our rooms," she said.

"That's all fine and dandy," said Natalia sarcastically, "but I can't exactly walk on a broken ankle." Before she had even finished speaking, Clint had reached down and swung her up into his arms.

"Problem solved," he said looking down at her, practically daring her to question him. Talia gritted her teeth.

"You realize that I could incapacitate you in fifteen different ways right now, even with my injuries?"

"Yes I do actually," Clint smirked, "you forget who I've been working with for the past ten years." They both looked over at Natasha, who was watching Natalia curiously.

"Why didn't you take him out?" She asked, "I would have thought that it would be second nature, completely reflexive." Natalia shrugged.

"I knew that if he needed to be taken out, Stasia would do it." Clint and Natasha paused. Clearly, they hadn't been expecting her to say that. Talia looked over at her sister, knowing that she had just revealed how deep their trust and love for each other went.  _Is that okay?_ Natalia asked with her eyes. Stasia kind of shrugged.  _We have to trust someone,_ she answered.  _Do we, though?_ countered Natalia,  _cause we've been doing pretty well not trusting anyone so far._ Anastasia just looked at her for a minute.  _He didn't get us out so that we could live in fear Talia._ Natalia bit the inside of her cheek.  _I know._ Stasia tipped her head to the side slightly.  _I guess that's our answer then._ Natalia gave a barely perceptible nod. Barton and Romanoff were watching the silent exchange with subtle curiosity. When both of the twins looked back up at them, Clint cleared his throat and said,

"Well we should probably go." Natasha looked down at Anastasia.

"Can you walk?"

"I think so," answered the trainee. Natasha extended a hand to the girl, and cautiously, Stasia took hold of it and pulled herself up. She clenched her teeth together in pain, but nodded to their mentors and the quartet made their way down to Clint's quarters.

* * *

Half an hour later, the two girls were mostly bandaged up and Clint was strapping Anastasia's wrist into a splint.

"Lucky it wasn't your draw hand," he commented, "so you can still shoot." Stasia shrugged noncommittally; she still wasn't sure how she felt about the whole archery thing. A sickening crunch echoed across the room as Natasha set Natalia's ankle but no one flinched. Calmly, the agent began wrapping the ankle. Trusting her hands to do the work without her eyes, Natasha looked up at Natalia.

"How quickly is this going to heal?" She asked the younger girl quietly. Clint's head snapped in her direction, surprised by the question, but Natasha maintained her calm stare at Natalia. The latter refrained from revealing any outward emotion, but when she looked over at her sister there was hesitancy in her eyes. Anastasia held Natalia's eyes for less than a second, just long enough to remind her of their decision, then Natalia turned back to Natasha.

"A few days, at most," she responded quietly. Romanoff nodded, continuing to wrap. A look of understanding came over Barton's face when she said that, after he had spent that entire exchange looking confusedly between the three women.

"How many did they give you?" Natasha questioned her protégée. Natalia shook her head.

"I don't-"

"She got injected twice a year," interjected Anastasia, cutting her sister off. Natalia looked over at her in surprise.

"I came home to an empty house on those days," said Stasia as an explanation. Natalia held her sister's eyes for a moment, then they both looked away. Natasha tied off the wrap and reached behind her to grab a walking boot.

"You're probably okay with this then, no crutches needed." She slid the boot over Natalia's ankle. While the girl did up the straps, Natasha placed a hand on her hip and fixed Anastasia with a hard gaze.

"And you?" Stasia shook her head.

"No," she said, "I wasn't supposed to be the weapon; I was the cover, the distraction so that no one would notice Talia," she sighed and gestured to her wrist, "it'll take normal time for this to heal." Natasha didn't respond; she had already figured that out and was just confirming.

"So," said Clint, "I assume you're wondering about the simulation." Stasia and Talia nodded.

"What exactly happened in there?" asked Anastasia.

"You were given a scenario with more than two possible outcomes," said Natasha.

"Usually," added Clint, "simulations are a pass/fail type thing; however this one had a third solution."

"One where you could make the morally right choice and still potentially complete the given task." As Natasha spoke, a light dawned in Anastasia's eyes.

"The people," she said simply. Barton and Romanoff nodded.

"The 'pass' in this simulation is supposed to be that you figure out where the bomb is hidden, disarm it and get out," said Clint, "with the 'fail' being the opposite."

"However," Natasha jumped in, an edge of sarcasm in her voice, "they didn't account for moral agents when they added in the people; they were just trying to make it 'realistic'."

"I still don't quite understand," said Natalia.

"Every room in the building you were in was rigged with a bomb like the one that you disabled, all of them set to explode simultaneously," explained Clint, "by moving the people underground, Anastasia saved their lives, but that meant that you lost any chance of getting out of the building on time."

"By disarming the bomb in the room you were in you saved your own lives, but you still would have gotten pretty roughed up," said Natasha, "so that's why the simulation left you with injuries." The twins nodded.

"I guess that provides incentive to do well on simulations," muttered Anastasia.

"How do you two know so much about the simulation?" inquired Natalia, "I mean, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be able to get that much information just from watching." Natasha shared a quick look with Clint. "This was our…test, you could say," Clint said tentatively.

"For what?" asked Anastasia, "to become S.H.I.E.L.D. agents?" Natasha shook her head.

"To see if this-" she gestured between herself and Clint, "would work. Us being partners," she clarified.

"All of my partnerships had ended in disaster, so S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't exactly keen to put me in another one," added Clint.

"And I didn't work with partners," said Natasha quietly, "Ever." The twins turned a little sober at that thought, but they both brushed it off and smiled. Natasha nodded slowly and she looked at Clint. He raised his eyebrows at her, asking a silent question. Natasha nodded and Clint pulled out his phone.

"What is he-" Anastasia started to ask, but Natasha silenced her with a look. The two sisters looked at each other curiously.

"Coulson?" Clint spoke as soon as their handler picked up the phone.

"Yeah, that thing we talked about? Okay great. Yep, be there in five." He snapped the phone shut and smiled at Natasha.

"It's a go."

"What is?" asked Natalia, unable to contain her curiosity any longer. Natasha graced her with a rare smile.

"Something I thought the both of you would ask to do sooner."

* * *

Barton and Romanoff led their protégées through the hall, all four of them determinedly ignoring the eyes and whispers that followed them. They stopped outside a door and Clint knocked. Natasha rolled her eyes and pushed past him, opening the door. Clint sighed but ushered the twins into what appeared to be an office. There were two people already waiting for them in the office. One was an older man, obviously some higher up agent that the twins hadn't met yet.  _Come to think of it,_ thought Stasia,  _we haven't really met anyone other than Barton and Romanoff._ Her train of thought cut off when she saw the other occupant of the office.

"Rani!" Both girls exclaimed in delight. The little girl turned around, grinning at the sound of her name.

"Stasia! Talia!" She cried, sliding out of her chair and running over to the girls. Natasha and Clint came to stand next to their handler.

"Thanks for knocking Barton," commented Coulson with an edge of sarcasm as the three of them watched the reunion.

"I tried sir," responded Clint, a smile just tugging at the corners of his mouth. Natasha scowled at both of them.

"I thought ten years was long enough to establish," she said, "that I don't knock."

"I still have hope," Coulson replied. Clint snorted.

"I don't." Natasha punched him and he broke down laughing.

Natalia and Anastasia both gave Rani a full looking over.

"Have they been taking good care of you sweetie?" asked Anastasia. Rani nodded.

"I've been staying with Phil," she said, pointing at the older man, "but they haven't let me see you; why couldn't I see you?"

"Well, we've been busy hon," said Natalia, glancing at Anastasia, "but we'll come visit more often now, okay?" Rani broke into an ear-to-ear grin and nodded vigorously. Stasia reached down and scooped her up and a peal of laughter broke out from the young girl. Natalia left the two of them together and joined the trio of older agents. The older man extended a hand to her.

"Agent Phil Coulson," he said in way of greeting. She grasped his hand firmly.

"Natalia Silivanov," she responded, eyeing him warily. Just because the girls had decided to trust (for the most part) Barton and Romanoff didn't mean that she automatically trusted every S.H.I.E.L.D. agent they met. "I want to know what's going to happen to her." Natalia jerked her head in Rani's direction as she spoke. Coulson contemplated his words before responding.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. was going to put her in foster care," he admitted, "but when we asked her if she had any family, she told us that you two were all that she had." Natalia looked surprised-she didn't realize how much the little one cared for them.

"So where does that leave us?" she asked.

"Well she can't live with you guys; S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't permit kids in the recruits' quarters, even the special ones you guys are staying in," Coulson sighed, "but I hate to put children into foster care if there's a way to avoid it, so, if the two of you have no objection she can continue staying with me. I can legally get her guardianship transferred into my name no problem. The alternative is of course foster care and it's very likely that you would never see her again." Natalia was silent after this, turning his words over in her head. Part of her wondered if Rani never seeing them again wouldn't be a good thing.  _With our past and what we are choosing to make of our future?_  She thought,  _that's not exactly the best environment for a child._  As if he could read her mind, Coulson said,

"You should know, S.H.I.E.L.D. is not a bad place to raise a child and she wouldn't be living here 24/7-I have an apartment off base." Natalia nodded and looked over at the little redhead.  _Who am I kidding?_  She smiled to herself,  _we could never leave that little girl._  She looked up at the three agents.

"We would really appreciate you taking her in, Agent Coulson." Coulson looked surprised at her quick decision.

"Don't you need to talk to your sister?" he asked. Natalia looked him dead in the eye.

"I don't need to." Coulson nodded slowly, but didn't question her further.

"Well," he said, checking his watch, "I think we need to get going; this was just a quick hello so that she knew you both were alright. We'll get a longer visit worked out around your training." Natalia nodded.

"Speaking of training," Clint looked at Natalia, "You two ready for another round?"

"Barton, she's got a broken ankle," objected Coulson, "which I assume is not in a cast because you didn't go to Medical," he glared at his agents, "and her sister has a bruised rib and a broken wrist. What training are you suggesting for them?"

"Actually Coulson," Natasha interjected before Clint could respond, "Her ankle is in a boot because she doesn't need the cast." She gave him a look layered with meaning and understanding flashed in his eyes.

"I see," he said. Natasha snorted.

"As if we don't have the means of getting a cast without going to Medical anyway," she muttered.

"We're not going to do anything super intensive Coulson," Barton told him, "probably just some more weapons training." Coulson looked to Natalia.

"Are the two of you up for that? You're well within your rights to refuse them." Natalia looked insulted.

"Мы русский. Я думаю, мы можем его обработки."  _(We're Russian. I think we can handle it.)_  A smile broke through Natasha's face at Talia's words while Clint looked to his partner for a translation. Natasha just shook her head, waiting to see what Coulson's reaction would be. He looked at the young woman in front of him and answered her, in perfect Russian,

"Я надеюсь, что так оно и есть. Получить по нему."  _(I should hope so. Get to it.)_  He nodded to his agents and the twins, dismissing them. Stasia and Talia said goodbye to Rani, promising to see her again soon, then the foursome departed.

* * *

Back in the training room, Barton and Romanoff looked at their trainees.

"So, what next?" Barton asked them. Anastasia was studying the ropes, comtemplating the difficulty of playing on them with only one hand. Natalia saw what she was thinking and rolled her eyes. No way was she gonna let Stasia go up there and break  _another_  limb.

"You said some more weapons training, right?" Natalia replied to Barton's question. Anastasia scowled at her sister, but quickly turned her attention back to the two agents in front of them.

"Sounds good to me," said Natasha, shrugging. She looked at Natalia, "Care to learn some interesting things about knives?" Natalia smiled at the prospect of the things that Natasha had discovered about knives.

"Sure," she said and the pair split off in the direction of the throwing range. Clint jerked his head in the direction of the equipment room.

"C'mon," he told Stasia, "I can show you what specialized archery equipment means." Anastasia followed him, actually feeling a bit excited about learning more about the sport she was clearly being trained in.  _This should be interesting._

* * *

Natasha grabbed a knife off the wall and flicked it at Natalia, who instinctively grabbed it out of the air. Natasha nodded, starting to get a better feel for how much skill this girl had for knife throwing.

"So how much stress training have you done with knives?" asked Natasha.

"Um," Natalia looked uncertain, "Not much, if any." A smile spread across Natasha's face.

"One of the most important things for a knife fighter to remember is that you can't let your emotions compromise your skills. Stress has to be controlled in a fighting environment." She reached up and grabbed another knife, flipping it in the air and catching it again. "Equally important, you can't rely on having a proper stance and ample time. Your target isn't going to stand still while you take aim and stick a knife in them."

"So basically, I have to learn how to throw a knife accurately while throwing the knife technically wrong," summarized Natalia.

"Basically." Natasha pointed to the throwing range. "We can try some exercises over there to get you used to the feeling before I throw in the next thing." Wondering what the next thing would be, Natalia followed her mentor over to the range.

* * *

Clint handed Anastasia a quiver full of what looked like normal arrows. However, the bow that he pulled down was anything but normal. It looked like a standard Recurve bow, with a black riser and limbs, but it was clearly specially made. The riser was a unique model, with the carbon fiber twisting in an original pattern and it bore no brand label, whereas the other bows had emblems of Hoyt and Easton and other companies on them. The other odd thing about the bow that Barton was holding was the grip. The back was the normal smooth black plastic but the front of the grip was a series of buttons. He grinned when he saw Anastasia eyeing them curiously.

"I did say specialized, didn't I?"

"Yeah...I wasn't exactly sure what that meant," said Stasia, "actually, I'm still not sure." Before she could blink, Clint had nocked an arrow and punched a series of buttons, one that he clearly knew well. He shot the arrow toward the ceiling and wrapped an arm around Anastasia's waist. Before she could register what the arrow had done they were flying through the air, up into the rafters. They swung high and Clint dropped her, leaving her to land deftly on the rafters. He landed on the beam above her and snatched the grappling hook arrow from where it had lodged. He glanced down at Anastasia, smirking at her astonished expression. She recovered quickly and shot him a look.

"Alright, so you can run away." Stasia shrugged, painting an unimpressed look on her face. Clint leveled a glare at her and nocked another arrow. He scanned the floor below them, then a grin crept across his face as his gaze landed on the two figures at the throwing range. He tapped the buttons on his grip, drew back the bow and took careful aim before loosing his shot.

* * *

Natasha rolled as though she was avoiding an assailant and she flicked the knife upward, sticking it cleanly in the target. She stood and shook her hair out of her face. Natalia stood watching, looking around at the four targets that Natasha had just nailed.

"Seems simple enough," said the younger girl. Natasha nodded at Talia's ankle.

"Gonna be able to do it with that?" Natalia sent her a you're-kidding-right look. She grabbed a knife off the table and stepped forward. She took a breath, then jumped up and grabbed the low beam above her head. She clamped the blade between her teeth and swung to build up some momentum. She looped her legs over the other low beam and as she swung upside down she grabbed the knife out of her mouth and flipped it into the first target. As it landed with a  _thunk_  she let herself fall from the beam and roll into a somersault to avoid putting weight on her ankle. She caught the second knife that Natasha threw at her and spun around, firing it directly into the block behind her. She snatched the third knife from the air without looking back and fell into a tumble, letting her momentum carry her to the wall. She pushed off of it with her good leg and managed to get into a kneeling position and stick the knife in a target to her left. The fourth knife came spinning at her head, but instead of grabbing it, she ducked and let it embed itself in the wall. She pulled it out of the wall and rolled into the same tuck that Natasha had completed minutes earlier. Natalia sprung out of the somersault and flung the final knife at its target, smiling in a satisfied way when it landed solidly. She looked over at her mentor who was looking on with an air of approval.

"Good," said Natasha, "ready to try something else?" Natalia nodded, a bit wary of the wicked grin that spread across Natasha's face.

"Go grab your knives," her mentor ordered. Natalia stood, favoring her good ankle, and went around to each of her targets. She was standing at the final target when she heard a surprised 'oh!" from Natasha's direction. Looking over, Natalia saw an arrow pinning the redhead to the wall. The tip had split into several small spikes and tangled itself into Natasha's jacket. Without even blinking, Natalia threw the knife she had just pulled from the target and sliced the shaft of the arrow in half, freeing her trainer. Natasha spun and ripped out her sidearm, firing several quick shots in the direction that the arrow had come from.

"Tasha!" Clint's complaining cry came floating down from the rafters.

"Don't shoot if you can't take some back Barton," Romanoff was completely calm, taking careful aim and firing again. Natalia looked around and her eyes landed on the ropes.  _This is a terrible idea,_ she thought to herself, but she headed for them anyway. She pulled herself up using her arms and knees, holding her ankle as still as possible. She slipped onto the beam behind Agent Barton, taking careful note of Anastasia below them. Grinning, Talia inched her way to right behind Barton. She caught Natasha's eye and the older agent gave a very slight nod. Natalia balanced carefully and gave Barton a well-placed shove, sending him spiraling to the floor.

"Natalia!" Cried Anastasia, but neither twin could help their laughter as Barton landed in a heap on the training room floor. Natasha strolled over to Clint and put one foot on his chest.

"I win," she declared. He rolled his eyes at her but nodded in surrender, knowing he was her mercy at this point. She smirked, but reached down and helped her partner to his feet. The twins smiled, then they made their way over to the ropes and slid down to join their trainers.

"Not bad rookie," Natasha nodded approvingly at Natalia, who smirked at Clint. The latter rolled his eyes and raised a brow at Stasia. She shrugged, not looking too sorry.

"We're gonna have to work on that," muttered Barton. Natasha snorted.

"How about some food?" asked Clint, looking around at the three women. The twins nodded eagerly and Natasha shrugged. Clint took that for a yes and he led the girls out of the training room, heading for the dining hall.

 


	6. Play Harder

**Chapter 6: Play Harder**

As the weeks passed, Anastasia and Natalia were surprised to find themselves feeling...at home. They bonded surprisingly well with Clint and Natasha, given the girls' past and that of the assassins. Their training was a comfortable mix of solo and partner exercises and each of the twins grew more confident in their abilities by the day. They also got to see Rani two or three times a week, in between their training and her schooling. Anastasia marveled at how her decision to save that little squirt had completely changed all three of their lives'. Stasia didn't know it, but that choice had changed far more than just hers and Natalia's lives. Natasha and Clint had never expected to connect emotionally to their protégées, but after spending almost every waking moment with them for the past month it seemed the world had other plans for the two agents. They couldn't help but laugh at the teenagers' antics and they found themselves falling in love with Natalia and Anastasia's little quirks. Of course, that love only extended so far in either direction; which was why Clint was sitting in front of Anastasia's door at seven am, twisting a lock pick into the deadbolt on her door.  _I did try knocking,_ he justified to himself, wedging the pin a bit further into the lock.

"Barton? What are you doing?" Clint jumped guiltily and spun around.

"Jesus Christ, Natasha, don't sneak up on me!" Natasha smirked.

"Don't let yourself be snuck up on," she retorted, "so why are you breaking in to Anastasia's room?"

"Yeah, did you consider knocking?" Natalia stepped out from behind Natasha, giving Clint his second shock of the morning. He recovered quickly and rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"I did," he said, "She didn't answer."

"What could possibly be so important-"Natalia started to ask, but was interrupted by Natasha, who took a well-placed kick at the door and broke through the barrier that Clint had been struggling with for at least 15 minutes.

"Kick first, don't ask questions," Natasha said over her shoulder to Natalia. Natalia sighed and followed the two agents into her sister's room.

"C'mon Stasia, get out of bed." Clint was obviously excited about something and impatience rang through his voice. He had taken to using Anastasia's nickname, a fact that Natasha didn't find surprising at all, even if the twins did.  _After all it only took him a couple months to start using nicknames for me,_  she though,  _even though I hated him for it._  She shook her head and leaned back against the wall, folding her arms. Anastasia rolled over and gave a small groan.

"Whaddya want Barton?"

"Just get out of bed!" Clint was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet with ill-disguised anticipation. Anastasia rolled back over, curling deeper under her blanket and ignoring Barton's command. Clint glared at her for a moment, and then looked up at Natasha. The partners shared a grin and, in a movement too swift to be the first time they did it, Natasha jerked the blankets off the bed and Clint wrapped his arms around Anastasia, pulling her out of comfort.

"Argh!" Anastasia cried out and instinctively reached up with her thighs and wrapped them around Clint's neck. Usually that kind of a move was unexpected and easily took down the opponent; however, Clint didn't live by the usual. He released his grip around Stasia's waist and grabbed her upper arms instead. Anastasia lost her leverage and couldn't hold her legs long enough to bring Clint down. The older agent pressed the younger one to the floor, gently setting a knee to her chest and a forearm to her throat.

"You might be good Stasia," said Clint cheekily, "but I'm still better." He eased off the girl and let her sit up, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Alright, alright, I'm up," she said, "Now what do you want?"

"Get dressed," he ordered, "Then meet us in the training room." Cling grinned, "I've got a special surprise this morning."

"It better be worth getting me up an hour early," grumbled Stasia. Clint didn't respond, just turned and walked out the door, Natasha following close behind him. Natasha raised an eyebrow at Natalia, expecting her to follow them, but the young girl just shook her head-she was going to wait with Stasia. Natasha shrugged and hurried after her partner.

"What exactly are you planning for this morning Barton?" Clint turned to her with sparkling eyes.

"Coulson gave me a package last night; S.H.I.E.L.D. got it special delivered." Natasha raised an eyebrow. She knew that he had been expecting a delivery, something that he had ordered a few weeks back.

"Is it..?" He nodded, a grin lighting up his entire face. She rolled her eyes but gave him a small smile.

"Don't overwhelm the girl."

"No promises," said Clint, giving her a wink. They reached the door to the training room and Clint pulled it open but Natasha strolled right past it.

"Where you going Tasha?" She smirked.

"Coulson has something for me." She strolled off, her hips sashaying along. Clint stared after her for a second, the rolled his eyes and entered the training room.

* * *

"Here Stasia," Natalia threw a pair of capri leggings at her sister along with a form fitting black t-shirt. Anastasia dragged herself off the floor and pulled on the clothes. She grabbed her favorite thing that she had received since she arrived at S.H.I.E.L.D.-new shoes. These particular shoes were specially made. They were soft and looked a bit like ballet slippers, but they were supportive enough to keep her feet from getting too sore. The fabric was quiet when she walked so she could still sneak around, and they worked with pretty much any outfit. She would be lying if she said that she hadn't considered that they would need to blend with whatever situation a mission with S.H.I.E.L.D. might put her in.  _But where's the harm in that?_  She thought,  _after all, that's where all this is leading, isn't it?_  She pulled the slippers on and dragged a brush through her hair, quickly looping it back in a ponytail. She stood and stretched, then properly looked at her sister for the first time this morning. Natalia was wearing a pair of black spandex and a white tank top. She had twisted her hair into a side braid and had on a pair of shoes that were identical to Anastasia's.

"Good morning," said Natalia with an amused smile. Anastasia rolled her eyes, but let the events of the morning go.

"C'mon," she told her sister, "Let's go see what Barton wants."

* * *

Agent Barton was standing behind one of the tables in the training room when the twins entered. Natalia looked around for Natasha, but came up empty. Shrugging, she parted from her sister and headed over to the throwing range. Anastasia stepped up to the table where Clint was.

"What's in the box?" she asked, gesturing to the box on the table between them. Barton grinned.

"A gift," he said simply, slicing through the packing tape with the air of someone who has waited their whole lives to do so. He removed the foam that was packed in on top of whatever was in the box. Then he pulled out a single, well wrapped package and handed it to Anastasia.

"Is it for me?" asked Stasia, a little confused. Clint nodded.

"C'mon, open it, open it!" Her trainer sounded exactly like a little kid at Christmas.

"You better open it." A familiar voice entered the training room. "He hasn't been this excited since the last new shipment of arrows." Natalia grinned at Natasha's words as Natasha walked up to the table, holding her own package, slightly smaller than Clint's. Anastasia gingerly unwrapped the package. As the paper wrappings fell to the ground she gasped at what she held in her hand. The cool metal of a brand new bow was like a miracle against her skin. The riser was a completely unique pattern, the carbon pieces twisting into a complicated, but beautiful design. But the design wasn't what took Stasia's breath away; it was the color. The carbon had been lacquered with a deep, majestic red, practically the color of blood. She ran her hand over the glossy finish, marveling in the perfect smoothness of the riser. She finally tore her eyes from the red riser to look at the limbs. They were curiously folded in on the riser in a way that she had never really seen a bow stored. She always had to completely remove the limbs from her borrowed bows, but these limbs were still connected to the riser.  _Probably some weird S.H.I.E.L.D. design,_ she thought. Instinctively, she set her left hand on the grip. An idea came to her mind, something she had seen Barton do with his bow but that she hadn't really understood at the time. She turned the riser vertical and flicked her wrist forward. The limbs snapped into place and the string pulled taught.

"Whoa..."she muttered, entranced by the bow.

"It's a little wobbly, but we can work on that," said Clint. Anastasia ignored him, now getting a proper look at the limbs. They were jet black, but if you looked closely there was an intricate inlay pattern, adding not only design, but strength to her limbs so they were less likely to twist or crack. The string too was a solid black; however, one of the dozen or so strands that went into the string was the same red as her riser. Anastasia couldn't find the words to express how she felt about the gift; she just looked up at Barton with sort of glassy eyes and gratitude written all over her face. He grinned.

"Told you we'd get you your own specialized equipment," he said.

"Specialized?" said Stasia surprised. She immediately looked down and felt her eyes grow wide when she saw the array of buttons built into her grip.

"We'll get those partially programmed today; then I can teach you how to program on the fly if you ever need to." Barton told her. Anastasia nodded, still too stunned and choked up to speak.

Natalia had made her way over to the table and was looking at Stasia's new bow with appreciation. All of a sudden, Natasha was handing her a package, similar to Anastasia's, but a little bit smaller. Surprised, Natalia looked up at Natasha.

"What's this?" she asked, confused.

"Just open it," replied Natasha. Natalia shrugged and did as directed, slitting open the packaging and sliding out the bubble wrapped lump that was inside of it. She cautiously removed the bubble wrap, seriously concerned that some kind of prank bomb was about to blow up in her face, and set it on the table, staring in shock down at what she now held in her hand. Four sharp and deadly knives were set neatly into two thigh holsters. The holsters were made of soft black leather that was smooth against Natalia's hands. She looked up at Natasha.

"Are these…?"

"For you," confirmed Natasha, nodding, "couldn't have Barton outfitting your sister without giving you a fighting chance as well." Natalia grinned.

"So," said Clint, "why don't we let you two break in your new toys a little bit?" The twins nodded eagerly and split off, heading for their respective ranges. Clint followed Anastasia, handing her a quiver as they went. The black leather was stiff enough to hold its cylindrical shape but soft enough to not irritate her when she slung it over her back and tightened the strap across her chest. The arrows sitting in the quiver were just as beautiful; they matched her bow perfectly with long, thin, black carbon shafts and black and red vanes. Stasia pulled the first one from the quiver without so much as a sound, nocking it onto the string. She pulled back, making sure to anchor solidly against the corner of her mouth. She took careful aim at the target 50 yards in front of her and let the arrow fly, landing it dead center. The projectile left her bow without so much as a whisper and Stasia turned to Barton, all smiles.

"Wonderful," she told him. He grinned back at her, nodding.

"I thought you would like it. What do you say we get some sequences programmed into it so you can have some more fun with those arrows?" Feeling ridiculously like a puppy, Anastasia nodded eagerly and they began tapping in different combos to experiment with her bow.

"We'll make top-bottom-top the order for a grappling hook arrow," said Clint, "Since that's fairly easy to remember and you're going to probably end up using that one quite often. So what you have to do is, hit top-bottom-top, and then tell it 'grappling hook'. It's coded to your fingerprint and as soon as you give it the first command it'll be coded to your voice as well."

"Cool," said Stasia, still amazed that they even had this kind of tech. She did as Clint instructed and in no time at all she was flying through the air on the end of her own arrow. She landed on one of the higher ceiling beams and chuckled, looking down at her grounded instructor. Grinning mischievously ,she tapped the middle button twice and whispered a new command to her bow. She nocked an arrow and tapped the middle button twice again to activate it. She took aim at the wall just above Barton's head and loosed the shot. As she had expected, Barton didn't flinch when the arrow came barreling at him, in fact he didn't move at all, at least, not until the arrow exploded over his head. He threw his hands up to shield his face as Silly String rained down around him. Brushing the annoying substance out of his hair, Clint glared up at Anastasia, who was smirking down at him.

"Oh it is so on," he muttered, moving to grab his own bow out of the training room.  _She might thing she's hot stuff, but she's about to learn how to deal with professionals._

* * *

Natalia took the first thigh holster and wrapped it high around her leg, buckling it tight, ensuring that she didn't cut off circulation. The cool metal of the handles pressed against the skin high on her thighs, sending a shiver of excitement through her.  _I love new toys,_  she thought. She reached over and did up the other one just the same. She straightened up and sent Natasha a thumbs-up. Natasha hit the button to start the moving targets across the throwing range. The targets were designed to act as human attackers would and were even roughly made to look like humans. Talia sprinted forward and rolled, twisting as she came out of the roll and grabbing her first knife with ease, sticking it into the target behind her. She flipped backwards into a handspring and kicked an assailant who had been trying to sneak up on her in the face. She sprang up onto the low ceiling beam above them and when the target had recovered she dropped down and wrapped her legs firmly around its neck. She pulled one hand off of the beam to grab a knife, leaving one arm holding up both her own weight and that of the target. Her right hand flashed out and sent a knife spinning into another fast-approaching target. She released her legs, having successfully asphyxiated the target dangling beneath her, and hauled herself back up onto the beam. Suddenly, two strong arms were pinning Natalia's arms to her side. Unable to twist out of the vise-like grip, she worked her leg up and punched a heel into the target where it would really hurt an actual person-a man anyway. Accordingly, the target doubled over and released its hold on her. Natalia took it out with a solid roundhouse kick and shoved the motionless body off of the beam. She threw her third knife at the final target from her perch, then somersaulted off the beam and landed neatly beside the fallen target. Adrenaline still racing through her veins, Natalia quickly collected her knives from the targets and headed over to Natasha to get her assessment of the practice run. Natasha had just opened her mouth to start when her comms crackled with Coulson's voice.

_"_ _Barton, Romanoff, report."_  Natasha spun around and looked at Clint, who was already staring at her, half frozen with shock, a forgotten arrow nocked and aimed in Stasia's general direction.

"You think they forgot that we aren't on active status right now?" he asked, eyes full of confusion. Natasha shrugged, similarly uncertain. They both turned to their protégées, about to tell them to resume training, when their comms sounded again.

_"_ _Bring the twins."_  Barton and Romanoff swung back to look at each other again, brows furrowed. Anastasia sent a worried glance to Natalia, who returned it, troubled by the sudden summons.

"C'mon then," said Clint, motioning for the girls to follow the two partners. Natalia slid her new weapons back into their holsters and Anastasia slung her bow onto her back, quickly tailing their mentors out of the training room.

* * *

Coulson was waiting for them in his office, holding two manila folders. He grimaced slightly when he saw the stoic looks on the two assassin's faces. Barton and Romanoff took the chairs in front of Coulson's desk, leaving the twins to stand off against the side wall. Coulson threw the folders down on the desk, letting them slide across to Clint and Natasha. Neither agent made any move to grab the folders. Clint folded his arms and Natasha gave Coulson a cold look.

"What is this, Coulson?" asked Barton, frowning at their handler.

"It's a mission, Barton," answered Coulson coolly.

"Did you miss the memo Phil?" Natasha butted in, "We're not on active right now."

"You are now," retorted Coulson, "Fury reinstated you."

"When?!" demanded Barton.

"About…ten minutes ago," said Coulson, looking at his watch.

"We can't go on active Coulson," Natasha looked pointedly at the twins, "We have an on-base assignment."

"Oh, I'm so sorry Romanoff," replied Coulson sarcastically, "because Fury is just going to not put his best team on a mission because they're on an  _on-base assignment._ " Natasha's nostrils flared.

"We're not going," she stated, anger simmering just below the surface.

"We have a commitment here Coulson," interjected Clint, "we can't just walk away."

"Not even for 2%?" asked Coulson, his frustration matching that of the two agents, "because that's the estimated success rate for any other team on this mission." Anastasia's mouth dropped open and she looked over at Natalia to ensure that she had heard right.  _Two percent?_  she mouthed. Natalia's eyes were just as wide.  _How can S.H.I.E.L.D. even send anyone on that kind of a mission?_  she mouthed back.  _What do you think their success rate is?_  asked Stasia, nodding in their mentors' direction. Natalia shrugged and they refocused on the conversation.

"What's our rate?" questioned Natasha quietly.

"65%" responded Coulson. The two agents nodded; that was about what they had expected given everyone else's extremely low rate, but the twins shared another shocked look.

"Does it have to be done?" asked Clint. Coulson nodded.

"If you don't take it, we will be forced to send one of the lesser qualified teams." Natasha and Clint's eyes met; they both knew that they were taking this mission without a doubt. The real question of course, was:

"What about the twins?" Natasha raised her eyebrows at Coulson.

"Well," said their handler, "It  _is_  customary for trainees to accompany their SO's on a couple missions over the course of their training period."

"That's all fine and dandy Coulson," said Barton, "except we aren't technically their SO's since Fury hasn't cleared them for future S.H.I.E.L.D. employment yet."

"Wait, what?" Natalia jumped into the conversation, "I thought we were cleared weeks ago!"

"You were cleared for  _training only_ ," clarified Natasha, "a full check and admission to S.H.I.E.L.D. takes much longer, particularly in your cases, which is part of why you weren't placed with a larger training group."

"Once you've cleared all S.H.I.E.L.D. security measures, they assign you an SO, or supervising officer, to oversee your training and prepare you for a future at S.H.I.E.L.D," Barton told them.

"And what exactly have you been doing?" inquired Anastasia, raising an eyebrow at the two agents.

"Simple training," replied Natasha, "Anyway," she turned back to Coulson, "we can't take them because they haven't been cleared for off-base exercises."

"You know, my life would be a lot easier if you two would check your email on a regular basis." Coulson rolled his eyes, "They were cleared yesterday evening-Fury sent you a notice." Natasha and Clint exchanged a surprised look.

"So who're their SO's?" asked Clint. Natasha gave him the look she reserved for his idiotic moments, which were actually quite often, and Coulson scoffed.

"You're kidding, right Barton?" said the handler, "Who do you think the SO's are?"

"Oh." A blush crept up Barton's neck, "I was just confirming," he recovered lamely. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"So," said Natasha, redirecting the conversation back on topic, "we can take them along?"

"Officially, yes," answered Coulson, "However, it is left up to the judgment of the SO to determine whether the recruit is ready for the mission or not." Natasha and Clint gave small, identical smirks; they both knew that Natalia and Anastasia could handle a mission, even one as difficult as this was projected to be.

"So are you going to actually look at the mission briefing or…." Coulson looked at the two agents questioningly; it wouldn't be the first time that these two blew off their briefing and winged the entire mission. Clint and Natasha exchanged a quick grin, and then each grabbed one of the folders.

"We'll read through them," said Natasha as both agents stood, turning for the door. Natalia and Anastasia followed close behind their new SO's, wondering what exactly they had gotten themselves into now.

"Make sure you  _actually_  read it!" Coulson called after the group, "And  _follow_ it too!" Barton and Romanoff shared a look that suggested that following the briefing was an option, and then turned to the two trainees behind them with impish grins. Barton raised his eyebrows at the twins.

"Ready to have some fun?"

 


	7. Secrets Don't Make Friends

**Chapter 7: Secrets Don't Make Friends**

Anastasia looked appreciatively around the private briefing room that S.H.I.E.L.D. had provided them with. She was sitting next to Natalia in one of the comfortable chairs, looking at the two agents across from them. Natasha stretched and Clint grabbed two folders, handing one to each twin.

"So here's the deal," he said, "the target is Jack Ronzo. He's a high level officer in a weapons ring that is operating out of Yemen."

"What does S.H.I.E.L.D. want with him?" asked Natalia.

"He has some information that we want," Natasha smirked, "and he's not exactly cooperating." Anastasia raised her eyebrows.

"So what are we doing?" She gestured between herself and Natalia.

"You're going to shadow me," said Clint, "we'll be on back-up, covering Nat and Talia while they go in and take care of the target."

"So I'm shadowing you then?" Natalia directed her question at Natasha.

"Loosely," said Natasha, jerking her head to the side a little bit, "but there are parts of my job that I can't do with a shadow, so you're going to have to learn roll with the punches." Neither twin missed the way that Barton's eyes darkened at his partner's blunt statement.

"That doesn't have to be a part of this Nat."

"But we both know that it will go much more smoothly if it is," Natasha met his gaze steadily; "we've proven that." Clint frowned, but let the subject drop.

"Natasha will be posing as a wealthy American businesswoman who's closing a deal with the target, and Natalia, you will be her personal assistant." Clint handed Natalia a folder, "Here's your cover." Talia flipped open the folder.

"Nora Scott?"

"You're American now," Natasha smiled; "sorry for the downgrade, but-" She was interrupted by Clint punching her in the arm.

"I take offense to that!" He said grumpily. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Есть ли у вас не преступление?"  _(Is there anything you don't take offense to?)_ She muttered under her breath, just loud enough for the girls to hear, eliciting a slight chuckle from both of them. Clint glowered at her some more, then they both returned to the briefing.

"What's your cover name?" Natalia directed her question to Natasha.

"Noel Rodgers," she replied without missing a beat.  _A cover she's very familiar with then,_ thought Natalia.

"The main objective is information; S.H.I.E.L.D. wants him brought in alive, but only if we absolutely have to bring him in. They'd rather not remove a prominent public figure if we can avoid it," said Clint.

"When do we go?" asked Stasia. Natasha glanced down at her watch.

"Wheels up in 30."

* * *

An hour later their private jet was coasting along at cruising altitude. Anastasia and Clint were sitting in the cabin, meticulously examining and caring for their bows. Clint was rubbing wax into his string with a little scrap of leather, smoothing down the frays. Stasia was gently polishing her riser, drawing a subtle gleam from the red lacquer. Every few minutes she glanced up at the door that Natasha and Natalia had disappeared through earlier.

"They won't be back anytime soon," Clint didn't even have to look up to know that his trainee was looking for her sister.

"Why not?" She questioned, "What could they possibly be doing?" Clint frowned slightly.

"They're...getting ready," he finally said, "They have to be ready to approach the target as soon as we touch down in Yemen."

"What does getting ready entail?"

_Damn,_ thought Clint,  _why does she have to ask all the right questions?_ He sighed, certain that, based on how the twins treated their past, Stasia wasn't going to like some of the things Talia did with Natasha as her SO.

"I know that you are aware of how Natasha worked before she came to S.H.I.E.L.D." Clint's tone was guarded and Anastasia could tell that he was wary of bringing up this subject. His statement was rhetorical, but Stadia nodded anyway.

"Just because she's a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. now doesn't mean that her methods are any less...effective and Fury doesn't like to change things that aren't broken." Clint winced, ever so slightly, and Anastasia tilted her head to the side, studying him with new eyes.

"There's a reason that we are the best team S.H.I.E.L.D. has to offer and a large part of that is because Natasha is  _still_  the Black Widow." Anastasia froze at the sound of Natasha's code name.

"What  _exactly_  are they doing back there?" she asked cautiously.

"Natasha is teaching Talia how to get ready for their portion of this mission, just like I am with you," answered Clint. Anastasia glared at him.

"We didn't leave one controlling group to join another. Just answer my question." Clint snorted.

"If you think that S.H.I.E.L.D. actually controls either me or Natasha then we really need to work on your observational skills." His voice softened, "We aren't going to do anything like what you're thinking to you or your sister. That isn't what I meant. I told you those things so that you understand why they look the way they look when they come out of there. She probably isn't going to look like the sister that you know and along the way she is going to have to do things that you aren't going to like." Clint looked Anastasia dead in the eye and she was shocked when she saw the painful honesty there.

_This is about more than me and Talia,_ she realized,  _he's warning me because he's already been through this._

Barton swallowed and continued,

"But the important thing that you have to remember, the one thing you can  _never_ forget," Clint paused for half a breath, "is that there isn't a damn thing you can do about it." He swung his bow over his shoulder and swept out of the cabin, leaving a dark mood and his final words hanging like a shadow over Anastasia.

* * *

Natalia watched her SO with fascination that she wasn't even trying to hide. Natasha had nabbed Talia the minute they were in the air and dragged her off into the back rooms of the plane. Talia had followed, but naturally asked what they were doing.  _Getting ready_  was the only response she had been able to draw from her mentor. Of course, all of her confusion fell away when they stepped into Natasha's quarters on the plane and Natasha stripped off her cat suit, leaving herself in a bra and underwear.  _Thank god I recover from shock fast,_ thought Natalia,  _that could have been very weird._  The awkward moment had passed when Natasha opened the top drawer of her dresser, revealing an unrealistically large stash of weapons holsters. She had begun strapping them on, around her legs and her middle. She had quickly filled the holsters with their corresponding weapons, as large an array of knives and guns that she could manage. Then she disappeared for a few minutes into her closet, presumably picking out her clothes. Natalia contented herself with sitting on the edge of the bed and studying the room. As a result, she was woefully unprepared for Natasha to emerge in a mid thigh-length, sparkling gold dress that had no sleeves and a  _very_  low cut v-neck. She gaped for a moment until Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Oh shut your mouth," she said, "I was sure I wasn't going to have to explain this bit to you."

"Oh you don't," confirmed Natalia, "I was just a bit…surprised, that's all." Natasha smirked.

"You should have seen Clint the first time I showed up for a mission in something….well let's just say it wasn't my tactical gear." She grinned at the memory.

"I'll bet," muttered Talia under her breath, mentally filing that tidbit away to talk over with Stasia later. The twins weren't completely oblivious and honestly you would have to be obsolete to not see the unresolved sexual tension that constantly hovered around Barton and Romanoff. Natasha had stepped over to her bathroom counter and picked up the curling iron that she had already pre-heated. Carefully, she pulled a strip of her naturally wavy hair away from the rest and began the tedious process of creating perfect curls. An hour later, Natalia was watching Natasha apply the final touches to her makeup, flawless, glossy curls framing her face. Natasha popped her lips after a final brush with the lipstick, and then she tossed the tube back into her makeup bag and spun to face Natalia.

"Alright, your turn." Natalia sputtered, taken by surprise for the second time that day.

"What do you mean 'my turn'?" The look Natasha graced her with could not have been more condescending-it was a look she usually reserved for Clint.

"I can't look like this," she gestured to herself, "and have my personal assistant look like that." She pointed at Natalia. "No offense, you dress fine. But this is a different world, a different class. Remember that." She placed a hand on her hip and used the other to point at the closet. "Now get inside." Obligingly, Natalia strode into the closet. She supposed it was small compared to what Natasha probably had back on base, but she marveled at the number of outfits inside. Natasha whirled in after Natalia and without hesitation went to a rack on the left and pulled a beautiful, but simple dress off the rack. She threw it at Natalia, who slipped it on without hesitation. It was light blue and hugged her chest, then fell from the waist in a straight, structured skirt. Natasha had started rummaging through the rows of shoes and in no time at all she had a pair of white heels in her hands. They were a simple design with a rounded toe, but they spiked up in the back with at least a four inch heel. Natalia didn't even flinch at that.  _I've seen higher,_ she thought, smirking to herself. She slid the heels on, comfortably adjusting to the height change. All of a sudden she realized that Natasha wasn't in the closet anymore. Stepping outside, she saw her mentor back in the bathroom, plugging in a flat iron. Natalia groaned internally-she loved her wavy hair. Natasha saw the groan out of the corner of her eye and grinned. She wasn't all that fond of straight hair herself, but sometimes it  _was_ useful, so she always kept a flat iron around. She left the tool heating on the counter and went over to her jewelry chest. She carefully lifted the lid and began sifting through the different accessories that she had. She pulled out a pair of small gold hoops and a strand of small pearls. She gave them to Natalia, who had come to stand next to her. The girl took them without question and put them on. Natasha gave her a once over.

"Make-up," she said decisively. Natalia groaned again. "You are the least girly girl I have ever met," Natasha told her. Natalia rolled her eyes.

"That's only because you haven't tried to put make-up on my sister." Natasha chuckled at that and then full on laughed at Natalia's face when she saw the make-up kit.

"Better get used to this, rookie." Natasha grinned, "You're gonna be on lots of missions like these with me as your SO." Natalia gave her a we'll-see-about-that look and obediently, if reluctantly, sat down on the stool that Natasha was pointing at. Talia did her best to hold still while Natasha buffed and shined her face into absolute perfection. Mercifully, her mentor kept it simple and finished her off with just a touch of some sparkly eye shadow and light pink blush, followed by a smear of lip gloss. When Natasha spun Natalia in the direction of the mirror, the younger girl had to admit that, despite her aversion to make-up, she looked pretty good, definitely mature enough to be Natasha's personal assistant. Natasha on the other hand, didn't quite agree, because she was waiting for Natalia to finish her assessment, flat iron in hand. Sighing, Natalia handed Natasha the brush from the counter and let her drag it through her shoulder-length locks. After about fifteen minutes with the flat iron, Natalia was now facing a straight-haired version of herself. She thought that she didn't look  _too_  awful, but her inner self shuddered at all the teenage girl stereotypes that she was following right now. Natasha looked her up and down and sort of jerked her head to the side noncommittally.

"You'll do," she said neutrally, but Natalia could tell by the small smile on Natasha's face as she turned away that her SO was proud of her creation.

* * *

Anastasia stared out of the cabin window, absently rubbing the same spot on her riser that she had been polishing for the last twenty minutes. She was starting to get antsy when the door to the back rooms slid open. She whipped her head around and her mouth fell open as Natalia and Natasha stepped into the cabin.

"Whoa…" she took a second to process what she was seeing, "Who are you and what have you done with my sister?" Natalia grinned and struck a pose.

"Pretty good, isn't it?"

"It's not too shabby," Stasia replied teasingly. Natalia nodded to Anastasia's new clothes.

"You don't look half bad yourself." Anastasia blushed and looked down at the outfit that Barton had given her.  _It's better suited to shooting,_  he had told her. She was wearing a fitted black shirt with sleeves that just barely capped her shoulders and long black leggings that disappeared into black, lace-up boots. She had tied her hair back in a high ponytail to keep it out of her face. Her quiver was tucked next to her on the chair and her bow was lying across her lap. She opened her mouth to reply to her sister, but Barton chose that moment to reenter the cabin. He stopped short and his eyes flickered over both Natasha and Natalia. Anastasia thought that she detected the slightest hint of resigned disapproval in his expression, but she might have been overreacting because of their earlier conversation. However, when Natasha stiffened under Barton's gaze, Stasia knew that her suspicions weren't a figment of her imagination.  _There is definitely something more going on here,_  she thought, her eyes flicking between the two assassins. Natasha glared at Barton but said nothing and they both let it drop.

"We're about five minutes out," Barton informed them, "The pilot is going to drop Natasha and Natalia at this guy's office building so they can go up for their…meeting."

Natalia met Anastasia's eyes and they both knew that the other had picked up on Barton's disapproval of some of Natasha's methods. Stasia raised her eyebrows at her sister, who shrugged. _Later,_  Talia mouthed. Stasia sighed; whatever there was between their mentors would have to wait until after the mission.

"Then he'll fly us," Barton continued, gesturing to himself and Anastasia, "to some higher ground so that we can keep watch over the op. Sound good?" The three women nodded and Barton turned around and left the cabin again. Anastasia frowned after him.

"What's his problem?" she asked, still staring in the direction that her SO had gone. Natalia turned with a curious expression to hear Natasha's answer and Natasha sighed.

"Clint…he's not the biggest fan of how I obtain information. He thinks it connects me too much to my past, the very thing that he tried to save me from and it bothers him that I still do it." The twins exchanged a glance.  _There is definitely more to it than that,_ thought Natalia. Anastasia had a thoughtful expression on her face, contemplating something Natasha had said.

"The very thing that HE tried to save you from?" Stasia regurgitated Natasha's words and threw them back at her as a question. Natasha looked down at her watch.

"It's a story for another day," she said with forced cheerfulness, "Let's go."  _In other words, we're gonna have to force the story out of her,_  thought Natalia, meeting her sister's eyes.  _When we get back,_  returned Stasia. Natalia nodded and they both followed Natasha out to the loading bay.

* * *

_"_ _Hawkeye and T2 are in place."_ Barton's voice crackled over the comms. Natalia was following a half step behind Natasha, keeping her head half-bowed, not quite hanging down, but not held high either. The pair of them approached the door to Ronzo Tech, which swung open automatically to greet them. A secretary looked up at them as they entered.

"Hello," Natasha offered the perfect this-is-a-waste-of-my-time American businesswoman smile to the secretary, "I have an appointment with Mr. Ronzo." The secretary glanced down at her schedule.

"Mrs. Rodgers?" Natasha rolled her eyes.

" _Miss_  Rodgers," she said, particularly emphasizing her non-marital status, "some women can make it without a man."

"Of course, my mistake, I will inform Mr. Ronzo of your arrival. The elevator is just to your left, stairs to your right if you prefer." The secretary picked up the phone, looking a little flustered with a blush spreading across her cheeks. Natasha spun on her heel without another word to the woman and headed in the direction of the elevator. Natalia followed close behind, keeping a tight hold on the folders in her arms. They stepped inside the elevator car and hit the button for the top floor. Natalia cast one last glance out of the big glass windows at the tall buildings across the street. She smiled to herself.  _Stasia's up there somewhere._

* * *

_"_ _Black Widow and T1, approaching destination."_  Anastasia registered Romanoff's voice over the comms as Stasia watched Natasha and Natalia walking up the driveway to Ronzo's office. Barton was staring at the pair intently, watching every move they made and scanning the area around them for potential threats. Stasia mimicked his movements, crouching low on the rooftop, even though the early evening dusk covered them pretty well. Her bow was comforting in her hand, especially since Barton had helped her program some more helpful sequences into it, like explosive arrows. They heard Natasha and Natalia get into the elevator over the comms. Stasia let a breath out- _they're in,_ she thought. Next to her though, the tension that had already claimed Barton simply increased.  _Probably for the same reason,_ speculated Anastasia. She heard an elevator ding over the comms and refocused on the mission. She and Barton watched their partners' progress, catching sight of them every time they walked past a window.

_"_ _Black Widow and T1, approaching target. Mission is a go."_  Natasha's voice sounded in Stasia's ear again. She felt her own muscles tense up again and she tried not to imagine everything that could possibly go wrong.  _These two are the best S.H.I.E.L.D. has to offer,_ she told herself,  _everything is going to be fine._

* * *

Natalia trailed Natasha as they entered the office. Still keeping her head down, she looked at Ronzo from beneath her lashes. He was tall (as best she could tell while he was sitting down) and muscular, something she could tell even though he was wearing a nice suit shirt. He appeared to be a Mexican-American cultural mix and was sporting neatly trimmed black hair and brown eyes that were deceptively kind.  _Or I just know that they're deceptive._

_"_ Hello Ms. Rodgers." Ronzo stood and extended his hand. Natasha grasped it firmly and granted him a smile, pretending not to notice the once over he gave her.

"Good evening," she replied. He glanced behind her at Natalia.

"And who's this?" He inquired.

"My assistant, Nora," said Natasha smoothly. Natalia nodded respectfully to the associate. Ronzo's eyes flitted back to Natasha, lingering over her.

"We'll it seems we have some things to...discuss." Ronzo gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Why don't you have a seat?"

"I don't suppose you have a place where Nora could set up her laptop?" Natasha batted her eyes sweetly, "She has a couple of paperwork details to sort out."  _She is really laying it on thick,_ thought Natalia.

"Of course," said Ronzo graciously, "there's a conference room just down the hall to the left."

"Thank you," murmured Natalia, ducking her head. She stepped out and the door swung shut behind her.

" _Okay T1, let's get this show on the road."_ Natalia rolled her eyes as Barton spoke over the comms.

"Do get the option to change my code name?" She muttered as she pushed open the door to the conference room.

_"Just be glad you're not Thing 2."_ Natalia smirked at Anastasia's words.

" _Alright T1, set up the laptop and get the drive plugged in."_

"I know the plan Hawkeye." Natalia set the laptop on the table and tapped a few keys before inserting the black thumb drive the Coulson had given them so that they could find and store the information they were after.

_"I'm sure you do,"_ retorted Barton,  _"I'm sending T2 down to cover your position."_

"Got it." Natalia could just barely hear the sounds of her sister darting over the rooftops in the background of her comms. The computer in front of her beeped and Natalia refocused her attention on it. Whatever program Coulson had put on the drive was really effective; Natalia had no trouble following the tracks it laid for her and in seconds she had the files that they had come for.

"Hawkeye, I've got the files," she muttered, "How're things on Widow's end?" There were a few details that S.H.I.E.L.D. needed that Ronzo hadn't stored electronically and it was Natasha's objective to obtain those.

_"_ _Things are…moving along."_ Neither twin missed the unmistakable tension in Barton's voice or the way the he sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth. Natalia didn't reply; she pulled the laptop close and pretended to be diligently completing paperwork.

_"_ _C'mon Nat, hurry up and get out of there."_ Clint slipped out of mission mode for a moment, forgetting to call Natasha by her code name. She didn't reply; couldn't obviously since she was in the same room as Ronzo, but the three others could all hear the slight rustling of clothes and the shifting of two bodies. Natalia didn't think much of it; she knew it was a means to an end, and that was all it was. However, she knew, even without seeing him, that if it were possible to hear grimaces and winces over comms, she would be drowning in the noise from Barton.  _Someone needs to straighten him out on why his partner does what she does._ After an agonizing wait they finally heard Natasha's voice.

_"_ _Thank you, for your cooperation."_  At those words, Natalia slid the laptop and the thumb drive into her case and slung it over her shoulder.  _Time to head home._  Talia blinked in surprise as the thought flitted through her mind.  _When did I start thinking of S.H.I.E.L.D. as home?_

* * *

Stasia let out a long whoosh of breath that she had been holding and started back across the rooftops to meet up with Barton. She pretended to ignore the annoyance on her SO's face that clearly had to do with his partner, tucking it away for later discussion as they made their way back to the jet.  _We have a ten hour flight back,_  she thought,  _and they can't avoid us the whole time._  The car containing Natasha and Natalia pulled up and Anastasia ran to meet her sister, embracing her tightly.

"You okay?" she whispered. Natalia nodded, then looked at where Barton and Romanoff were standing, each glaring hard enough to scorch the other's face.

"I don't think they are," murmured Natalia. Stasia glanced over her shoulder at the standoff behind her.

"This is not normal behavior for partners," she said softly. Natalia shook her head.

"No, it's really not," she replied. Anastasia wrapped an arm around Talia's shoulders.

"Well, they know our life story," she said matter-of-factly, "So let's go find out theirs."

 


	8. Friends Make Secrets

**Chapter 8: Friends Make Secrets**

"You need to get a handle on yourself Barton," hissed Natasha. She knew exactly what her partner was frustrated about but she didn't entirely understand  _why._ Clint didn't respond; he maintained a steady glare in her direction.

"It's a tool, Clint," she insisted, "a means to an end-why is that a bad thing?"

"Because it shouldn't be the first  _tool_  that you decide to use!" Barton finally burst out, "That's not right Natasha! Most agents use seduction as a  _last resort_!"

"Well you should have figured out by now that I'm not  _most agents,_ " Natasha snapped. Barton sighed.

"I'm  _worried_  Tasha," he said, "Don't think for a second that I can't see what this does to you-how it takes you back to the way it was before." Natasha stiffened at his words.

"Everything I do brings up my past Barton, I've gotten used to it." Clint shook his head.

"Not like this Natasha. Other things don't turn you back into a person that you don't want to be." She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Sometimes you can't be the person you want to be, Clint," she said quietly, "Sometimes that gets taken away from you and all you have left is the person that you are."

"Not anymore Tasha," Clint repeated an argument he had drilled into Natasha hundreds of times, "Here you can change the person the person that you are into the person that you want to be."

"I didn't say that I didn't  _want_ to change." Natasha's eyes pooled with darkness; they became mirrors to an even darker past, one that left her believing that she could never right her wrongs.

"If you didn't think that you  _could_ change Tasha, you wouldn't have come back with me." Barton held her eyes, staring into their emerald depths, matching their darkness with his own gaze. Before Natasha could respond they were interrupted by a small cough.

"So we were planning to chat about the past with you guys, but I'm guessing that you probably don't want us to get the story by eavesdropping on your argument, so maybe we should go inside." Natalia's light-hearted tone was a sharp contrast to the mood surrounding the two assassins. They both stared at her for a second, and then Natasha turned and stormed inside the plane, a muffled scream ripping through her teeth. Natalia exchanged a knowing glance with Stasia before quickly following her SO. Barton started to go after them, but Anastasia folded her arms and fixed him with a glare that stopped him in his tracks. He sighed internally.

_Why is it that all Russians can do that glare?_

"What happened to 'there isn't a damn thing you can do about it'?" She quoted his own words back at him, earning her a scowl from her SO.

"I didn't say anything about trying," Barton retorted. Stasia shrugged.

"Fair enough." Barton gave her a searching look.

"The story that the two of you are asking to hear, it's not a pretty one." Anastasia met his eyes steadily.

"You forget that we already know where Natasha came from. We don't expect it to be pretty." Clint shook his head.

"You only know where Natalia Alianovna Romanova came from. You know nothing about Natasha," he told her. Anastasia didn't respond right away; instead taking a moment to study her mentor while she processed his words. There was brutal honesty in his eyes and a lifetime of pain written all over him. Anastasia had the feeling that there was a lot about her SO that she wasn't going to ever find out. Barton turned from her scrutiny and entered the plane. Stasia let him go this time, watching the empty space where he had stood even after he had retreated.

"Then let's go find out," she muttered to herself, joining everyone else on the plane.

* * *

Natalia followed Natasha through the cabin and back to the private quarters.

"You can't keep running Natasha," she called. Natasha spun around with murder in her eyes.

"I am not running," she spat at Talia, "But if you knew  _anything_  you would not blame me if I did."

"But I don't know anything." Natalia stared her mentor down with a challenge in her eyes, "so if you ever want me to understand, you're going to have to explain it to me." Another muffled shriek slipped between Natasha's teeth as she turned from Talia, making as if to punch the wall, then thinking better of it.

"I can't talk about it; you will never understand," she said, the anger in her voice barely controlled, "even Clint doesn't know everything…doesn't understand how deep the madness is inside of me."

"We might never understand," conceded Talia softly, "but we won't ever have the chance if you don't let us try. Please Natasha." Natasha stared stoically at the young recruit in front of her, a thousand thoughts running through her head. When it became apparent that she wasn't going to speak, Natalia continued with what she had been going to say.

"Everyone has an orgin story. It's what makes you who you are. There might be days that you absolutely hate who you are and you blame your past for that. But you forget that there are days that are positively wonderful and that those are a result of who your past made you as well." Natalia broke off suddenly and swallowed thickly.

"My orgin story doesn't have any of those happy days," said Natasha hollowly, "I only get those afterwards and I know that they can't last very long. Nothing good ever does for me."

"That's not what Agent Barton thinks," said Natalia, "You have to let someone in, Natasha," she finished quietly before turning and heading back out to the cabin. Natasha couldn't tear her gaze from Talia's disappearing form, mind and body frozen at the last words of the girl. Just like that, the anger melted from Natasha's muscles and she fought back the tears that threatened.

_I am strong. But maybe I need to do this._

She took a few minutes to pull herself back together, and then forced herself to turn away from her room and return to the main cabin.

* * *

"Our story…it's not one of a happenchance meeting and a perfect partnership," began Barton. The twins listened attentively, faces rapt with attention.

"The fact that we would meet, it was guaranteed long before we actually knew each other," he continued. He glanced over at Natasha and she nodded, taking a deep breath.

"You both know who the Black Widow used to be; the things that she did for the Red Room and for private contractors after she escaped. You know that she defected to the United States Government." Natasha paused, waiting for confirmation from the girls. They nodded and she continued.

"But something you don't know, something I'm sure you've asked, is  _why?_  This was the Black Widow, for god's sake, the deadly assassin that no one can turn." Again the twins nodded and now Barton picked up the story.

"I've been at S.H.I.E.L.D. for about 15 years," he said, "Ten years ago, I received what might have been a routine assignment. It was an assassination and that was what I did; I took out those people whom S.H.I.E.L.D. deemed too dangerous to allow them to live. This particular target though, it was a bit personal. I was the third agent being sent after her." Barton grew quiet for a moment.

"She had killed the first two." He stopped again to allow that to sink in. The twins' eyes flicked between Barton and Romanoff, questions burning in their eyes while they processed what the two agents were telling them. Finally Natasha nodded.

"Agent Barton was sent to kill me," she said, "I was on a mission in New Mexico." Neither twin said a word, both utterly speechless at how they were even having this conversation. Natasha kept right on speaking, not giving them a chance to interject.

"I should, by all rights, be dead. I should be in New Mexico with an arrow in my heart."

"But if you were," said Clint quietly, "S.H.I.E.L.D. would be down one fine agent." It was a not-so-subtle reminder and Natasha nodded slowly. Anastasia finally managed to break out of her voiceless state.

"What happened?" she asked rather incredulously. Clint and Natasha exchanged a glance.

"Without going into too much detail," said Barton, "we fought and I won. I had an arrow aimed at her chest and I gave her a choice. Come back to S.H.I.E.L.D. with me or die on that rooftop. I think you know what she chose." The twins nodded. They both wanted to ask for the deeper explanation that Barton had clearly avoided, but both Clint and Natasha's eyes warned against it; that was evidently a story for another day.

"So I came back to S.H.I.E.L.D. and they took me and we've built up a partnership that sparks legends and rumors in every S.H.I.E.L.D. affiliated facility." Natasha's eyes sparkled with humor at the last bit. Natalia raised an eyebrow at her SO.

"They just let you in? Just like that? Someone they had ordered a hit on?" Barton rolled his eyes.

"Believe me, I went through hell and back with Fury and that is  _not_  something I wish to repeat," he said, wincing at the memory.

"I'm having a hard time believing that they would just let  _the Black Widow_  join up," said Stasia. Natasha sighed.

"Coulson," she told them, "Coulson vouched for me and backed Clint. He got Fury to give us long enough for me to prove myself. I guess I did because I'm still here and Fury hasn't said a thing about it to me since." Understanding washed over the girls as they came to comprehend Barton and Romanoff's close relationship with their handler.

"So here we are," said Clint, "ten years later and we've managed not to kill each other."

"Not that it didn't come close," muttered Natasha. Barton grinned at her. Natalia was biting her lip, looking like she was debating whether or not her next question was a wise one. Natasha sighed.

"Spit it out, Маленькая красная."

"Why did you do it?" She didn't direct her question at either agent specifically; she didn't really care who answered it. Natasha's eyes darkened and her jaw tightened.

_Guess I'm not getting anything out of her._

"Everyone asks that," Barton answered, knowing perfectly well that his partner wouldn't say a word, "but it's not something we can explain to you. I hope to god that you're never in that kind of a position, mine or Natasha's. It's...not something you come out of in one piece."

Natalia nodded and a sudden silence cloaked the room. None of them were quite sure how to break it, but as it turned out, they didn't have to.

_*cough*_

_*cough, cough*_

_*COUGHCOUGHCOUGH*_

Natalia's head whipped towards her sister as Anastasia dissolved into a coughing fit.

"Stasia!" She flew to her sister's side and began patting her down. "Have you taken your medication today?"

"Medication?" Barton exchanged a puzzled look with his partner, "Anastasia doesn't have any medication."

Natalia barely spared enough energy to shoot Barton a murderous glare.

"How long did it take  _you_  to give S.H.I.E.L.D. all of your medical information, Agent Barton?" She spat the words at him and followed them up with a growl. Clint grimaced; he  _still_  hadn't given all of his medical details to S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Dammit, Stasia! Why don't you have it?!"

Anastasia looked up at her sister with glassy eyes that were mostly vacant.

"Hair- _cough_ -pin," she wheezed out, letting her neck snap backwards while she drifted into unconsciousness. Natalia tore the pin from Anastasia's neatly twisted braid and jabbed it into her neck without hesitation. The latter went limp and all outward signs of breathing ceased. Natalia fell back into a sitting position, relief flooding her figure.

"What the hell?!" Barton was staring at the twins with anger all over his face. "Why do you look so happy- _your sister isn't breathing_!" He started to move towards Anastasia; to shake her and wake her up.

"Barton, don't." Natasha's voice froze Clint in his tracks.

" _Natasha_ , she is going to  _die_!" He spun angrily and found his partner staring at Anastasia, looking as though she had just seen a ghost. All of his frustration drained at the look on Natasha's face.

"Tasha?"

"When?" Natasha ignored Barton, speaking directly to Natalia.

"We were six," said Natalia, "There was this little dog and they told me…they said I had to…" She swallowed thickly.

"They made you kill it," said Natasha quietly. Natalia nodded.

"Except I wouldn't, not at first. But then they took her and…" Natalia trailed off, lost in painful memories.

"And did what?" Barton looked between the three women with wild eyes.

"They made it so that the very thing that was keeping her alive would also kill her," said Natasha, staring with a completely stoic face at Anastasia. Barton knew that face and it was the one mask that scared him the most when his partner wore it, because he knew that the more emotions flooded her body, the further Natasha would draw into herself.

"What does that mean?" he asked, still not understanding.

"She's allergic," said Natalia softly.

"To what?!" Barton was just frustrated now. Natasha and Natalia looked at each other, and then both turned to the one man in the group.

"To oxygen," they whispered in unison.

Barton stopped moving all together and very slowly turned to look at the two females.

" _What?!_ " He stared incredulously at them, "That's not even possible-she would have died before she even got to live if that were true!"

"That would be right, if it were a natural allergy," said Natasha, gently walking Barton to the conclusion that she had already reached, "Think about it Clint…"

Barton cast his mind back on Natalia and Natasha's conversation from a few moments ago.

_When?_

_We were six…_

**_They_**   _told me…_ _ **They**_ _said I had to…_

**_They_ ** _made you kill it._

**_They_ ** _took her…_

**_They_ ** _made it so that the very thing that was keeping her alive would also kill her._

**_They._ **

"That's just sick!" spat Barton, shaking with rage as the truth of Anastasia's condition settled in. Natalia stared at him blankly; this was nothing new to her, she had had ten years for the awfulness to sink in. Natasha felt old scars opening, deep wounds starting to bleed again but she kept her face in a very careful disguise.

"How is she even alive?" Barton managed to finally calm down enough to ask a coherent question.

"There is…medication that reverses the harmful effects oxygen has on her modified system without negating the positive uses that keep her alive. She's supposed to take it every day, but apparently she left it behind and didn't bother to tell me." Natalia seethed at the end of her sentence.

"How has she survived this long without it?" asked Natasha, "It's been more than a day since we left base."

"She can go up to two, two and a half days without it, if she has to, but it's better if she doesn't."

"What did you do to her?" asked Clint, watching the motionless body of his trainee.

"I injected her with a chemical that allows her to live a few hours without oxygen, but to do so she has to remain in a catatonic state," said Natalia, "If she doesn't get her medication within three hours all of her major organs will fail. Then it's just a race to see what kills her first-the organ failure or the oxygen deprivation." Bitterness tinged Talia's every word.

"Barton go take over for the pilot." They both knew that Barton could fly twice as fast as any S.H.I.E.L.D. pilot and Natasha's tone left no room for protest. Clint stood quickly and exited the cabin.

"Make her comfortable; stay with her."

Natasha cast one last glance at Anastasia's immobile shell and shuddered with the effort of repressing haunting memories. Natalia watched as her mentor fled the cabin, seeking sanctuary from her own mind.

* * *

Natasha thanked a god she didn't believe in that she made it back to her room before the breakdown hit. No one else in their little team knew the full extent of her madness; not even Clint. She locked the door with the last of her strength, then fell to her knees as the memories washed over her.

_...Twelve young girls, full of promise are standing in a line. One by one they are pulled into a room and one by one they straggle out, each missing something they had when they went in. Girls come out with burned faces, missing fingers, and mutilated bodies. One girl emerges looking perfectly normal. She takes a deep breath and smiles at the last girl who was waiting to go in. Natalia watches with an impassive mask as the girl fills her lungs and then begins to cough. The girl, a year or two younger than Natalia, falls to the floor and spasms, choking on her own breath. Natalia stares stoically at the girl's body and then raises her head and enters the room..._

"Natasha!" Barton pounded on the door to his partner's room. "Dammit Tasha, open the door!" Barton growled in frustration when no response came from the other side. He took a step back and kicked high, breaking open the door and storming into the room. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a click and felt a cool metal barrel against his neck.

"Tasha..." Barton held his hands out so that she could clearly see that he was unarmed. The metal disappeared from his skin and Barton spun around, catching Natasha before she could crumple to the ground. Her eyes were still vacant ad Barton realized that she wasn't seeing what was in front of her; her body had reacted on instinct when he broke open her door. He carried her over to the bed and laid her down as gently as he could. He knew Natasha hated it when other people saw her in moments of weakness.

_She's going to be pissed when she wakes up._

Barton sighed and ran a hand over his face. Exhaustion was apparent in every facet of his body. He turned to leave, to return to his station in the cockpit when a whimper echoed from behind him. Barton spun back around as a small shriek ripped through Natasha's teeth.

"No, don't-" The red-haired assassin was shaking uncontrollably, trapped in whatever nightmare she was reliving.

_To hell with flying; Marks can manage and we'll get to base when we get there._

Barton moved back over to the bed and gently secured Natasha in the circle of his arms.

"Shhh, Tasha, its okay, I've got you, you're safe, shhh..."

He rubbed comforting circles into her back and held her until she stilled and her breathing evened out.

_That's it Tasha, you get some rest._

Despite all of his exhaustion, Barton kept his eyes open, watching over the sleeping figure of his partner.

_Some things are more important than sleep._

* * *

Natalia sat on the couch with Anastasia's head in her lap. Although not by much, Natalia was the older sister and often times it seemed like more than two minutes separated the two of them. Anastasia liked to be reckless and do things that could get her into trouble and more often than not Natalia was the one to pull her out of those situations.

_I should have made sure that she had her meds._

She knew that she shouldn't blame herself; after all, Anastasia was just as old as she was and the former knew how to take care of herself, but Natalia would blame herself anyway. The sense of responsibility for starting them on their new life had always weighed heavier on Talia than on Stasia and over time the sense of general responsibility had made the same shift.

_Not that Anastasia doesn't have moments where she mothers me._

Talia smiled to herself and ran her fingers through her sister's hair. She had pulled the braid out entirely because combing each other's hair was one of the most relaxing things that either of them could do and on really stressful days they would just sit next to each other and work their fingers through each other's tangled locks. Softly, Natalia began to sing, a bilingual lullaby that their mother had sung to them when they were very, very young; so young that Natalia was surprised that she remembered it at all, back before everything went wrong. The notes floated through the cabin and the lyrics came to Natalia as if she had just heard the lullaby yesterday:

_~Where the dreamy Volga flows_  
There's a lonely Russian rose  
Gazing tenderly  
Down upon her knee  
Where a baby's brown eyes glisten  
Listen

_Ev'ry night you'll hear her croon  
a Russian lullaby_

_Just a little plaintive tune  
When her baby starts to cry_

_Rock-a-bye my baby  
Somewhere there may be_

_A land that's free for you and me  
And a Russian lullaby~_

_Где мечтательные потоки Волга_  
Там в одиноко России роза  
Глядя нежно  
Вниз по колено  
Где карие глаза ребенка блестят  
слушать

_Ev'ry ночь вы услышите ее напевают  
Русский колыбельная_

_Просто немного жалобный мотив  
Когда ее ребенок начинает плакать_

_Рок-бай мой ребенок  
Где-то там может быть_

_Земля, которая бесплатно для вас и меня  
И русская колыбельная~_

"It's going to be just fine Stasia," Natalia whispered, pressing her lips to her sister's head, "We won't have to worry anymore. Everything is going to be alright."

If only Natalia could be certain that the words she was saying were true.

 


	9. The Hurt and The Healer

**Chapter 9: The Hurt and The Healer**

Coulson paced back and forth on the landing strip, wringing his hands. Behind him were four nurses and a stretcher, the medical team that Barton had requested in his brief dispatch.

Which was basically the entire reason for Coulson' worry. Because unless someone was dying, Barton and Romanoff didn't request medical teams.

A new wave of anxiety washed over Coulson and his forehead folded into creases. The woman behind him shot him a concerned look.

"Calm down Coulson, I'm sure they're fine."

Coulson rounded on Maria Hill. "Fine? I don't think so Maria. If they were fine, they wouldn't need a  _medical team._  Hell, even if they weren't fine, they wouldn't need a medical team. This has to be  _way_  past fine for them to even  _think_  about requesting a medical team."

He broke off breathing heavily. Hill shook her head.

"That's not what I meant. I mean, Barton and Romanoff are probably fine. I think the med team is for one of the twins."

Coulson pursed his lips. "Even if it is, the situation is probably still fatal. Barton knows full well that if a trainee is injured their SO has to go to Medical with them, so one of them is going to end up in Medical and they wouldn't risk that unless…"

He trailed off as a roar filled the sky and the S.H.I.E.L.D. jet came into view. Coulson tensed and the medical team assumed a ready stance as the jet started its descent. The wheels dropped out and the plane touched down. Coulson, Hill, and the nurses ran to meet it as it taxied down the runway. Before the aircraft had stopped moving the cabin door had been flung open and one of the twins was out. Whichever one it was-Coulson couldn't tell-took off running like her life depended on it. She flew past the little greeting party, cold determination written on her face. A few seconds after she came out the next figure emerged. Coulson breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Barton, walking on his own two feet, only to tense with worry when he saw the young redhead in the agent's arms.

"Told you it was a twin," muttered Hill. Coulson didn't bother with sending her a withering glance. He stared anxiously at the cabin door, only relaxing when Natasha finally emerged. Barton made it over to the med team and laid the twin on the stretcher.

"Take her to Medical. Whatever you do  _don't_ wake her up, I don't care a damn bit what the doctors say. The only thing you are allowed to do is make her comfortable until her sister gets there. When her sister gets there you let her do whatever the hell she feels she needs to. Got that?"

He glared threateningly at each nurse until they nodded, then he released his grip on the twin and let them roll her away as quickly as they could without disturbing her. Barton turned to face his handler, Romanoff coming to stand next to him. Coulson stared after the med team for a few seconds, and then spun back to his agents.

"What the hell happened?"

"The mission went fine," said Natasha, interjecting before Barton could speak and directing her statement to Hill, "we got in, we got the info, and we got out. Standard procedure. This happened on the plane ride back."

"And what exactly  _is_  this?" asked Coulson through gritted teeth.

"Anastasia had an allergic reaction after we returned to the plane." Barton kept his voice calm and even, not letting his frustration and worry for his protégée slip through.

"She doesn't have any allergies on file."

Natasha sent Coulson a  _look_. "Really Coulson, after you've been my handler for however long and with what you know of her past, do you  _really_ think that she shared everything with us? That either of them did?"

Coulson jerked his head to the side, conceding slightly. "So what's she allergic to and why does she still need medical? Shouldn't she have taken care of whatever it is en route?"

Barton and Romanoff both hesitated, and Barton finally said, "She didn't have the right medication with her, but that's all I'm going to say. If she wants to tell you when she wakes up, that's fine Coulson. But I'm not telling you, and I don't think Natasha is either. Sorry."

Coulson's eyes hardened. "Why is this such a big deal? It's just an allergy, it's nothing  _bad_ -"

"Trust me Coulson, with people like us, anything is bad." Natasha cut their handler off. "Now we really need to go, since we're both going to be required in Medical shortly."

Both agents pushed past Coulson and Hill and started off at a very quick pace, making their way to the one place at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ that they normally avoided like the plague. Coulson shook his head at both of their retreating figures and then he looked at Hill, smiling wryly.

"I think that this might be the only time they've been in a hurry to get to Medical."

* * *

Natalia didn't think as she flew across the tarmac. She zoned her vision in on her sole goal: the door that would take her inside S.H.I.E.L.D. She didn't register the gaggle of people watching the plane land; they weren't even remotely important to her in the big scheme of things. Talia reached the door and roughly pulled it open, darting inside. She was already down the hall by the time it slammed shut behind her. The halls were fairly crowded, but apparently her status as the Black Widow's trainee granted her the same courtesy that her SO received. Whatever it was, when the agents saw her coming, they got out of her way like they were going to die if they didn't.

Of course, given the circumstances, there was a chance that they might.

Blessedly, this meant that Natalia was able to get to Stasia's dorm in record time. She didn't bother with the key; instead she launched a solid kick at the door and splintered the wood around the lock. Rushing inside, she saw exactly what she was looking for lying on the dresser: the injector. Snatching it up she spun around and fled the room, dashing as fast as she possibly could in the direction of Medical.

* * *

When she reached the automatic glass doors, Natalia saw a long line of doctors and nurses who were glancing between the door and a room down the hall. One of them saw Talia through the doors and gave a shout. The sea of white coats parted and Natalia sprinted through them into the room. Her sister was lying on the bed, looking pale and very weak. Talia choked back a sob; it had been years since she had seen her sister like this. The medical staff that was attending Stasia stepped back as Natalia entered the room, but as soon as they did, Stasia's body jerked and her heart rate monitor jumped from a flatline to erratic beeping. Panic ripped through Natalia, tearing her in half.

_NO! I am not too late!_

A small part of her registered Barton and Romanoff running up to the room and gasping in shock at what was happening to Anastasia. If she had been able to look at the two senior agents, Natalia would have found genuine fear in their eyes. The panic vanished from her system, replaced by a fierce protective instinct and fiery determination. She hit a button on the injector and waited, heart pounding as she watched her sister start to die in front of her eyes. Talia focused on her breathing as the device in her hand started to grow warm.

_This isn't the first time Natalia. You are strong. She needs you to be able to do this, so you are going to do it._

She took another deep breath in through her nose; the injector was reaching peak temperature and rapidly becoming too hot to hold. She tried with everything in her not to notice the panicked motions of the medical staff or the fear that was on Barton and Romanoff's faces. Talia stepped forward to stand right next to her sister. The injector turned hot enough to blister Natalia's hand just as Anastasia opened her mouth to take a breath of oxygen that would be fatal. Fear spiked in her heart and Talia jabbed the injector into her sister's neck with as much force as she could muster. Stasia breathed in…

And didn't cough.

Natalia sagged with relief, feeling her legs give out from under her. She collapsed to the floor, reassured by the rapidly steadying beeping from her sister's heart monitor. The doctors in the room were watching her, fascinated by what they had just seen. They obviously had some questions, but before they could even start they found themselves face-to-face with one of their worst nightmares: Agent Clint Barton. He glared at them with folded arms, daring them to harass either twin while Natasha slipped past him and gathered Natalia into her arms. She started to move toward the door when she felt a weak resistance in her arms.

"No…I have to…stay…" muttered Natalia. Natasha stopped walking and sent a pointed look to Barton, who in turn looked at the doctors and basically told them to get out.

Needless to say, they listened.

Romanoff gently lay Natalia down on the bed next to Stasia and the former instinctively curled around her sister. Barton locked the door behind the doctors and pulled the blinds down to give the four of them some relative privacy. He dragged the sort of comfortable arm chair over next to the bed and sat in it, assuming a position he had held many times before at the bedside of his own partner. Carefully, he reached up and took one of Stasia's hands in his own and began lightly tracing shapes on her skin. Natasha read the worry in his eyes without any difficulty.

"Natalia, how long before she wakes up?" she asked softly.

Natalia blinked and turned to look at her SO. "Could be anywhere from a couple minutes to a couple hours," she replied. Natasha nodded and perched herself on the edge of the bed, curling into a tiny ball. Barton just stared at his trainee and they both settled in to wait it out.

* * *

Three hours later found Romanoff staring at the plants outside the hospital room window and Barton lying his head down on the side of the bed, eyes still trained on Stasia. Both of them were exhausted, but neither was willing to go to sleep until they were absolutely sure that Anastasia was okay. Natalia was still curled around her sister but had long ago drifted off into unconsciousness.

"Natalia…?" A dry, rough voice cut through the silence. Barton lifted his head off of the mattress and Natasha spun around, reacting to the name purely on instinct.

"I'm her-" she paused when she realized what she was saying and she swallowed before correcting herself. "She's right here Anastasia."

Barton shot his partner a concerned look; it wasn't often that Natasha relapsed and started thinking of herself as Natalia again. She shook her head at him and they both turned their attention to the twins.

The sound of their voices had effectively jerked Natalia from her uneasy sleep and the girl propped herself up on one elbow.

"Stasia?"

Anastasia turned her head so that her sister could see her open eyes.

"Hey," she said casually, as if she hadn't almost died. Natalia wrapped her arms tightly around Stasia's neck and squeezed her tightly, tears pricking her eyes when she felt Stasia wrap her arms around her waist and return the hug. Talia pulled back and glared harshly at her sister, the annoyance with her starting to filter through the relief. Before her actions completely registered, Natalia drew back a hand and smacked her sister clean across the cheek. The slap made a loud cracking noise and Stasia winced, but didn't protest.

"I suppose I deserved that," she admitted.

"You bet you did." Natalia glowered down at her. "Why in the world didn't you  _tell_  me that you left your meds here?!"

"It wasn't like you could do anything about it Talia."

"For all you know, I keep an extra dosage in my pocket." Stasia rolled her eyes at Talia's suggestion.

"I know full well that you don't do that because we only have one injector."

"Whatever." Natalia fixed her sister with a serious scowl. "Next time, which there won't be one, but if there ever is, for  _anything_ , you better  _tell_  me. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am," muttered Stasia, huffing a little at Talia's mothering.

"She's not the only one you're going to tell." Barton finally spoke, injecting himself into the conversation. Both twins turned to look at him. Anastasia kind of frowned, a puzzled look crossing her face.

"What?" asked Barton, "Do I have something on my face?"

"No, it's just…." Stasia bit her lip, hesitating over her words, "well, I guess…why are you two still here?"

Barton looked surprised, and a tiny bit insulted. "You think we would just abandon you two to the medical staff?"

Natasha snorted at that and the twins glanced over at her before looking back at Barton.

"No it's just…" Natalia bit her lip, "well, don't you guys have other, more important things to be doing than sitting in a hospital room for three hours?"

"No." Clint didn't elaborate on his statement; he just let it hang in the air with all the implications that accompanied it. Anastasia wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"But didn't you guys want to go sleep or something?"

"When one of us is injured, we don't sleep." Natasha responded to the girls this time. "Not until we know that they are absolutely okay."

"Well yeah that makes sense, you guys are partners." Natalia looked between the two mentors. "But neither one of you was injured so…"

Barton and Romanoff didn't reply; they just stared at the twins, waiting for them to catch on. Finally they both drew in sharp breaths.

"Oh," they said together and they met each other's eyes.

_We're part of the 'us'._

Tears pricked both girl's eyes again, but they both forced them back. It was a strange sensation, like being a part of a family again.

_What did we do to deserve this?_  thought Talia.  _To deserve another chance to be happy?_

Stasia squeezed her hand and looked up at Natasha.

"Спасибо, сестра."  _(Thank you, sister)_

Natasha froze at the girl's choice of words. She blinked rapidly and looked at both of them. She kept her face neutral but inside a raging turmoil broke out.

_What is happening to me? How can they do this to me?_

She managed a slight nod and she turned to go, needing an escape from the emotion of the moment. Her hand lightly brushed Barton's shoulder and then she was gone. Barton watched the empty doorway for a moment, then looked back at the twins.

"What did you call her?"

They regarded him for a second, but they didn't answer his question. Instead, Anastasia turned toward her sister and grinned.

"Вы знаете, если она наша сестра, то он полностью наш брат-в-законе."  _(You know, if she's our sister, then he's totally our brother in law.)_

Natalia snorted, lacing her fingers through Stasia's.

"Вы лучше не давайте Наташа слышу, вы говорите, что."  _(You better not let Natasha hear you say that.)_

Anastasia chuckled and Clint groaned, throwing his hands up in surrender.

"Have I mentioned lately how much I hate it when you all talk in Russian?"

The twins smiled angelically at him and he rolled his eyes.

"Well, whatever you said, I'm glad you're awake. Now I'm going to go get some sleep. You two have fun." And with that, Barton exited the room.

"You scared me," whispered Talia after a few seconds of silence.

"I'm sorry," Stasia whispered back. She leaned her head against Talia's arm, waiting for the other girl to say something. When Natalia didn't oblige, Stasia broke the silence again.

"Do you think we should tell them about….the other thing?"

"No." Natalia's voice was firm and dark. "We swore we would never tell a soul; even these two won't change that."

Stasia nodded, her cheek rubbing against the sheets. A huge yawn split her head in two and Natalia smiled softly.

"Get some rest, Stasia. The world will be waiting when you wake up."

Anastasia smiled sleepily and closed her eyes, laying her head back down on the pillow.

Natalia watched her sister drift off and she relaxed next to her, still much in need of sleep herself. She floated slowly toward unconsciousness, her last words to her sister echoing in her mind.

_The world will be waiting…_

* * *

Sleep had never come easy to Natasha, at least not when she was alone, so she wasn't surprised to find herself tossing and turning that night. Around two in the morning she finally gave up on any notion of sleep and rolled out of bed, intending to hit the training room for a bit. Dressed in workout gear, she made her way down the hall. Once she reached the end, Natasha hesitated, deliberating for a moment. Finally, she turned left, away from the training room, but toward Medical.

_I'm just checking up on them._

That was perfectly natural, wasn't it? She was Natalia's SO; it only made sense that Natasha should want to make sure that Natalia was doing okay and obviously Natalia would be with Anastasia, so Natasha might as well check up on her as well.

_It only makes sense._

At least, that was what Natasha told herself as she walked stealthily down the hallway to the entrance to Medical. The agent on duty, some level one or two operative that Natasha didn't know, nodded to her as she walked in, not questioning why she was visiting Medical at two in the morning; most young agents had learned by now no to question the Black Widow, or her partner for that matter, on anything they did. They always had a reason. It might not necessarily be a good one, but they always had one.

Natasha crept up to the door to the twin's room and silently entered. Natalia was curled up against Stasia's back and both were sleeping deeply, Stasia's even breaths being marked by the constant beep of her heart monitor. Natasha slipped up alongside the bed and gazed down at the girl's peaceful faces, so full of youth and just life. She reached out and gently brushed a piece of hair back from Natalia's forehead, careful not to disturb the girl while she tucked it behind her ear. The silence was comfortable in the room as Natasha stared down at the twins. She had been trying with little success to avoid thinking about what Anastasia had called her earlier and, more importantly,  _why_  she had called her that.

Сестра _._

_Sister._

_Why?_

Natasha implored the question at the sleeping girls in front of her, as if she could drag an answer from their unconscious bodies.

_You were raised to hate me…how can you be…whatever this is that you are?_

Natasha shook her head and lowered her face into her hands.

_But most of all, how can you both do…whatever it is you're doing to me? It's never like this, not with anyone. Why do you both make me…make me feel?_

"Tasha?"

Natasha looked up to where the voice came from, her eyes going to the air vent out of habit. She could just make out Barton's face between the slats of metal.

"Barton."

"You know they aren't going to wake up just because you're here staring at them," he whispered, "trust me; I've been trying it all night."

Natasha rolled her eyes and turned her focus back to the twins. "What if I don't want them to wake up?"

"Well then, I promise not to spread rumors about your liking to stare at sleeping children."

"You're damn lucky that I can't shoot you Barton." Natasha glared daggers at the ceiling.

"You wouldn't shoot me, Tasha."

"Try me. Why've you been here all night?"

"Couldn't sleep."

Natasha nodded; she had figured as much. The two of them lapsed back into silence for a few minutes, both of them keeping watch over their protégés.

"I think they're going to be okay," Clint finally whispered, "you wanna go….somewhere else?"

A wrinkle passed for a fleeting moment over Natasha's nose while she contemplated Clint's words. She sent a glance out at the reception area and then looked back at the twins. They would probably be okay with just each other for company; they had survived long enough that way. She hadn't gotten the answers that she came for, but she knew that odds were she never would. Sighing she nodded slightly, knowing Clint was watching her and the slight shifting of the air vent cover confirmed it. She stood and walked over so that she was standing right underneath the opening in the ceiling. Natasha sent one last glance at the girls and then stomped down on her confusion and questions, locking them tightly away. She reached up and jumped, grabbing onto Clint in a move they had done many times before and pulling herself into the air vents. Barton smiled at her and she just rolled her eyes.

"Lead the way, bird boy."

Barton stuck his tongue out at her before turning and heading off to the left and Natasha smirked. Both agents kept their minds in the present moment; trying with all their might not to think of their two trainees lying back in Medical and the path that all four of them were heading down.

A path that was rapidly being defined by two blond twins who were worming their ways into the stone cold hearts of a couple of master assassins.

 


	10. It's The Terror Of Knowing

**Chapter 10: It's The Terror Of Knowing**

Natalia tapped her foot, glanced at the door and then her watch, then back at the door.

"What is taking them so long?"

Stasia set a hand on Talia's arm to soothe her. "Calm down. When has either of them been on time for anything?"

"Good point," muttered Talia, "although you'll have to exclude meal times if you want that to be true."

Anastasia snorted as the door swung open to reveal the suspicious eyes of the girl's SOs.

"What's so funny?" Barton scrutinized the girls closely.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Natalia struggled to keep a straight face while Stasia dissolved into laughter. Barton and Romanoff rolled their eyes and shook their heads before stepping to the side and ushering the girls from their room.

"Let's get out of here," said Natasha, drawing sighs of relief from both of the twins.

* * *

The Medical staff watched as the quartet made their way toward the exit. Close observations were made from behind clipboards and under eyelashes. When the sliding glass doors had closed behind the foursome a collective sigh of relief went up from the workers. A few seconds after, everyone simultaneously groaned.

Everyone, that is, except one young nurse, who looked as though Christmas had come early.

"So I guess each of you suckers owes me ten bucks," she said smirking. Her colleagues muttered unintelligibly and looked away, internally cursing their choices.

But really, who would have thought that Hawkeye and Black Widow could make a trip in and out of Medical without completely wrecking the place?

* * *

Natasha glanced up and down the hallway, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. Clint eyed her warily; he had been on the receiving end of that grin before. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the chiming of both hers and Clint's phones. Her heart skipped a few beats with excitement, the way that it always did when they got called in for a mission. The both pulled out their phones and looked down at the screens.

"Coulson?" confirmed Clint. Natasha nodded and tapped out a quick reply before slipping her phone back into her pocket.

"What are you telling him?"

"That we'll be there as soon as we finish eating." Clint nodded and sent their handler a likewise response. The playful glint returned to Natasha's eyes and when Clint finally put his phone away she continued with what she had been going to say before.

"Хотите повеселиться?"  _(Wanna have some fun?)_

Clint groaned silently. His Russian had improved a bit; how could it not when he was always around these three, but he still struggled to keep up sometimes. Thankfully, Natasha spoke slowly enough for him to do so and the twins followed suit.

"Зависит от того, что 'забавы' есть," said Anastasia cautiously.  _(Depends on what 'fun' is.)_

Natalia rolled her eyes at her sister. "Не будь слабаком Стася. Конечно, мы сделаем это."  _(_ _Don'tbeawimpStasia_ _._ _Of course we'll do it.)_

"Хорошо. Тогда все, что вы делаете, не говорят по-английски.По крайней мере, не к близнецам. "  _(_ _Good_ _._ _Then whatever you do, don't speak English. At least not to the twins.)_  Natasha let her eyes linger on Clint with the last words, making sure that he understood. He rolled his eyes and sighed.

_Her faith in me is just astounding._

"Кристально чистый."  _(Crystal clear.)_

Natasha nodded, satisfied, and led the group toward the cafeteria with a smirk of anticipation on her face.

* * *

"Salad?"

Clint shook his head at the lunch lady. "No thanks."

"What about for you?"

Natasha nodded and the server dished her out a healthy helping of the leafy greens. The woman turned to Natalia who was right behind Natasha.

"Would you like some?"

Talia painted a puzzled look across her face and turned to look at Natasha, who feigned surprise.

"Oh, I'm sorry, just a moment." The lunch lady watched them curiously as Natasha spoke to her trainee.

"Хотите любой салат?"  _(Do you want any salad?)_

A very convincing look of understanding came over Natalia and she nodded. Natasha turned a dazzling smile on the server.

"She'll take some." The woman shook her head, slightly bemused, and dished some out onto Talia's plate. Natasha stepped back to allow Natalia to pass her so that she could 'translate' for Stasia as well. They left a trail of muddled servers behind them as they progressed down the line. Anastasia and Natalia hid their grins every time Natasha turned to translate the food to Russian for them and Clint refrained from rolling his eyes while he watched them. He had already gotten through the line and was waiting for the trio of Russians to make their way down to him. While he was waiting, he scanned the crowd in the lunch room. Many of the agents were watching the spectacle that was happening in the lunch line and laughing at it. Clint started to smile, but his grin faded as his gaze landed on one agents. A middle aged man, the agent was watching the girls with just a little  _too_  much interest in his eyes. Clint felt his blood start to boil and he was about to go and have a  _talk_  with the man when a hand lightly touched his shoulder.

"Таблица?"  _(Table?)_  Clint looked at the expectant faces of the twins and his partner. The slightest flash of confusion passed through Natasha's eyes but it disappeared as soon as Clint nodded and rearranged his features into those of someone enjoying lunch with his friends. The four of them made their way over to a table in the corner, ignoring the multitude of eyes that were following them after their little stunt in the lunch line.

"Напомните мне, почему мы делаем это снова?"  _(Remind me why we're doing this again?)_  muttered Clint.

"Потому что это весело!"  _(Because it's fun!)_  Stasia turned a grin on him with her answer. Clint couldn't help but smile at the excitement in her eyes. The four of them sat down around the table and dug into their lunch hungrily, jabbering away about completely normal topics in Russian, causing their neighbors to shoot them sidelong glances. By the time they had finished eating, even Clint had to admit that the puzzled looks of the agents around them were pretty hilarious. They dropped off their dishes and on their way to the door the passed the table of the agent that Clint had seen watching them earlier. The man-Agent Terrence Rockend-stood to intercept their path. Clint was already glaring at him and Rockend wasn't about to help his case. His eyes slid over Natasha and the twins and then flicked back to Clint.

"You sure know how to pick the pretty little Russians, Barton."

Clint and Natasha froze for less than a second, rage spiking through both of them faster than should have been humanly possible. In a practically synchronized movement they lunged forward and punched Rockend in either side of the jaw, Clint on the left and Natasha on the right. The agent was too stunned to move, but Clint and Natasha instinctively dropped to the ground, both of them feeling the whisper of air that told them the twins were moving. Natalia and Anastasia, looking remarkably like their SOs, landed another punch on either side of Rockend's jaw. For good measure, Natalia sent a solid kick at his stomach. Barton and Romanoff grinned with pride at the girl's reactions. Stasia and Talia pushed angrily past Rockend to where their mentors were now standing. The quartet turned from the idiot in the lunch room, who would shortly be visiting Medical, remarkably satisfied by the abuse they had delivered to him, and headed out in the direction of Coulson's office.

* * *

"Zimbabwe."

Clint picked up the folder that Coulson threw at them.

"What for?"

"We got a tip on this man and his operation. We want you to take him out and collect some intel if you can find any."

Barton and Romanoff nodded.

"Any specific way we have to do that?"

Coulson shook his head. "Just try and keep it low-key."

"Got it. When do we leave?"

"Wheels up in sixty."

* * *

"So, how are we doing this?"

Anastasia settled herself cross-legged in front of the couch on the plane and looked up at Barton and Romanoff expectantly.

"Yeah what's the plan?" chimed in Natalia.

"Well based on these blueprints," Natasha gestured to the papers on the coffee table, "it makes sense to give Barton the hit. There are plenty of good angles from up high and the target's office is easily accessible."

"Which leaves you two," Barton's eyes flicked between Natasha and Natalia, "to gather some intel."

"Perfect." Natasha beamed. "Good old fashioned espionage; no covers required. This is straight up infiltration."

Natalia grinned in spite of herself, amused by Natasha's excitement. To Talia's surprise, she felt a spike of anticipation shoot through her own body.

_When did I start looking forward to the thing that I used to hate?_

"You two should go get suited up; we'll be touching down soon." Barton glanced at his watch, jerking Natalia out of her thoughts. Anastasia nodded and pushed herself into a standing position. She turned and reached out a hand to pull Talia to her feet. Natalia hesitated after she had stood up.

"But I don't really have a suit, so…?"

To her surprise, Romanoff's eyes danced with sparkles. "Check your closet."

Eyes widening, Natalia turned and hurried off toward her room with Stasia hot on her heels. Anastasia squeezed Talia's hand and they parted ways to enter their separate rooms. Natalia pulled open the doors to her closet and gasped, gaping at what she saw there. She cautiously stepped forward and fingered the material of her new suit gently. It was black and made of the most breathable and flexible material she had ever held. Tugging it off the hanger, she slipped it on and sighed with soft relief as it molded around her skin. She could move as easily as if she were in shorts and a tank top and the material provided little to no friction resistance. The sleeves went down to her wrists and the neckline cut across her collarbone. She nabbed a pair of black boots, also from her closet, and twisted her hair into a ponytail as she stepped out into the hall. Stasia was already waiting, dressed in the same clothes she wore on their first mission, her bow slung over her back. She cast her eyes appreciatively over Talia's new suit.

"Very nice."

"Thanks," said Talia, beaming. She linked her arm through her sister's and grinned.

"Now let's go kick some ass."

* * *

Of all the experiences she had ever thought she would have, Anastasia never thought that she would be running across rooftops, a bow strapped to her back, following her mentor who was on his way to kill someone.

_Albeit, a horrible someone._

She focused as they approached another jump and took it in stride, her breath catching slightly when she leapt over the empty space. Barton had said that the best location wasn't very far from the rendezvous point, but Anastasia was starting to question her SO's definition of 'very far'. Finally, he slowed his pace and came to a stop behind a stack of crates. Anastasia crouched next to him, questioning him with her eyes. Barton shook his head.

"Got to wait for the okay from Nat and Talia."

Anastasia nodded and turned to peer through a crack in the stack of crates. The target was sitting just where they'd been told he would be.

All there was left to do was wait.

* * *

Natalia pressed herself flat against the rooftop while Romanoff picked the lock on the trapdoor that would let them into the building. The door swung open silently after a few seconds and Natasha dropped down. A few more seconds passed and Natalia heard a low whistle. She slid over and fell through the opening, pulling the door shut behind her. Natasha was standing off to the side in the shadows, a security guard unconscious at her feet. Silently, the pair slipped down the hallway. In the distance they could both see more security guards. They shared a single silent sideways glance and both launched into action. Before either guard could sound the alarm they each found themselves trapped between a pair of killer thighs. Natasha and Natalia each flipped a guard to the floor, successfully knocking them out. The security taken care of, Natalia cast a look around. Natasha on the other hand, directed her gaze up and grinned when she saw what she was looking for. She nudged Natalia.

"Let's take a leaf out of Barton's book."

Natasha knelt down and created a step with her hand, boosting Natalia up high enough to remove the air vent cover and scramble into the small opening. Once her protégée was in, Natasha sprung agilely into the vent and reset the cover. Moving noiselessly, the pair made their way undetected through the target's base of operations. Natasha glanced down through each air vent opening that they passed until finally she stopped and glanced back over her shoulder at Natalia.

_This is the room,_  she mouthed. Natalia nodded and waited for Natasha to go in first the way that she always did. This time though, Natasha slid to the side.

_You can take this one,_  she mimed, a smile creeping across her face. Natalia's eyes widened with surprise but she quickly recovered and crawled up to undo the cover. After the square of metal was removed she wasted no time. Natalia dropped into the room and pinched the neck of the one person in the room and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Natasha dropped in behind Talia and went straight to the main computer. Natalia peeked through the blinds to the hallway outside and found it empty.

"I'm going to have a quick look around," she whispered. Natasha nodded, already busy with the computer in front of her. Talia twisted the doorknob and crept silently into the hallway. She cemented the location of the room in her mind before shutting the door and starting off. The boring tan interior of the building made it look like any other office building; you would never know that illegal operations were happening behind nearly every door. Down at the end of the hall a flash of color caught Talia's eye and she focused on it. The last door on the right broke the pattern; it was painted jet black. Carefully, monitoring every aspect of her surroundings, Natalia approached the room. There were no windows here and when she tried the door handle she found it locked.

_Well no duh Natalia, of course it's locked._

Mentally slapping herself, Natalia slipped a couple hairpins out of her ponytail and wiggled them into the lock. A few seconds later there was a small click and this time the handle turned easily in her grip. She swung the door open and looked inside.

What she saw there was something that she wasn't going to forget anytime soon.

Horror washed over Natalia as she took in the sight of the room's contents. It was a large conference room, but it was used for anything but conferences. The floor was cold, hard cement and the one tiny window opposite the door had bars over it. Lining the wall, about every two feet were chains and attached to the end of the chains were…

_People_ , realized Natalia in shock,  _those are people._

And so they were, even if they were hardly recognizable. Girls ranging from about five to sixteen lined the walls of the room, hair hanging in oily strings and ribcages poking through their ragged shirts. They turned their hollow eyes on Natalia when the door opened, but there was no change in their expression, no hope of escape.

They had completely accepted their fate.

Natalia couldn't think straight, couldn't focus, but she couldn't make herself turn away, not even when Romanoff's voice crackled over her comm.

"Natalia, we need to go."

Talia couldn't make herself respond; really she couldn't make herself do anything right now except stare at the empty shells that had started as human girls.

"Natalia?" A note of worry had crept into Romanoff's voice now, but Talia still said nothing, couldn't say a single thing.

"Natalia!" Finally, Natalia stumbled backwards, and shut the door, the desperation in Natasha's voice coming though crystal clear. Talia tripped her way down the hall to the computer room, thankful that she could remember which door it was through the haze that had filled her mind. She lurched into the room where a panicked Natasha had one hand on her gun and the other on her comm.

"Oh thank God. Why didn't you-" Natasha broke off mid-sentence when she saw Natalia's face.

She had seen that look before.

She had worn that look before.

"Oh hell. What happened? Actually never mind, let's go." Natasha watched Talia with worried eyes as the younger girl clambered into the air vent. Few things could make someone look the way that Natalia looked right now. Natasha slipped in behind her and slid the cover over the hole. Pressing a hand to her ear, she spoke to the other half of their team.

"Go, Barton. We're clear."

* * *

_"_ _Go Barton. We're clear."_

The words that Barton and Stasia had been waiting for all night finally came through over the comms. Both archers perked up and tensed into action stances. The target still hadn't moved from his desk, but he had shut the window. Barton looked over at Stasia.

"Wanna get the window?"

She nodded and nocked an arrow, thankful that she only had to eliminate the window. Carefully punching a sequence into her bow to activate the arrow she stepped to the side of the crates they were hiding behind and took careful aim. She loosed the arrow and ducked, waiting until she heard the crash that told her she had hit her target. A grin spread across her features as Barton spun out and shot his arrow without any hesitation.

The following thump told Anastasia that Barton had hit his target as well.

"Rendezvous in two," muttered Barton into the comms.

With that, the two archers slung their weapons onto their backs and took off sprinting for the rendezvous point.

* * *

By the time that they reached the trap door, Natalia had gone into bad enough shock that she was turning unresponsive. A tiny sliver of panic was rising in Natasha, but she stomped on it.

_Panic later. We have to get out first._

With determination on her face, Natasha set her shoulders and got to work. She reached up and pushed the trapdoor open. Then, she grabbed Natalia and wrapped the younger girl's arms around her own neck.

_Thank god they don't weigh that much._

Putting a little extra effort into the jump, Natasha sprung upward and grabbed the edge of the opening. She swung herself and Natalia up and out of the building into the cool night air. She lay Natalia down and shut the trapdoor with a soft click. The plane was waiting for them, silencers on the engines to muffle the noise. Natasha cast a glance in the direction that Barton and Stasia had gone, and then she reached down and gathered Natalia into her arms and entered the plane.

* * *

Barton and Stasia flew across the rooftops, both relaxing a smidge when the plane came into view. One last jump and they were running up the ramp into safety. The ramp closed behind them and they felt the aircraft start to ascend. Both of them looked around, searching for the other two.

"Tasha?"

"Talia?"

"Up here."

Anastasia tensed the minute that Natasha answered but Natalia didn't and took off sprinting in the direction of Natasha's voice, Barton hot on her heels. They entered the main cabin and Anastasia gasped, doubling over when she saw her sister lying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. Stasia ran to her twin's side and took the back of ice from Natasha and pressed it to Talia's forehead. Natasha watched helplessly as emotions flitted across Stasia's face: hurt, worry, confusion, pain, accusation. Barton walked over and wrapped an arm around Natasha's shoulders in support.

"What happened?" he asked quietly. Natasha shook her head.

"I don't know," she said shakily, "she stepped out to look around and when she came back she was going into shock. I had to pull us both out. She must have seen something…"

Clint squeezed Tasha's shoulders and she leaned into him. Her face was stoic, but Clint could read the clear worry for Natalia in her tense muscles and emerald eyes.

Tears were pooling in Anastasia's eyes as well and Clint reached out his free hand to grip her shoulder.

"It's going to be fine, Stasia, she'll come out of it with a little time."

Stasia nodded, her gaze not leaving her sister's face. Barton looked between all three of his girls and sighed softly.

_Are all of our missions going to end this way?_

 


	11. What This World Is About

**Chapter 11: What This World Is About**

Coulson watched through the window of the observation section of the room that they had prepared for Natalia. He watched as Natasha carried the young girl, who was still unconscious, in and laid her down on the bed ever so gently. Anastasia wrapped a heavy blanket around her sister's shoulders. Barton pushed a chair forward and Stasia sat down in it, took one of Talia's hands in her own, and stared into her sister's dull eyes. The shock had fully set in and Natalia had remained unresponsive for the remainder of their flight back. Natasha settled herself on the end of Natalia's bed and was alternating her gaze between the two twins, watching them both with immense worry. Clint shot a glance toward the one-way glass and, even though he couldn't see him, he knew that Coulson was out there watching. He turned and slipped out of the room to join his handler in the observation room. For a moment, neither of them said anything while they watched the three Russians. Finally, Coulson sighed and grimaced, thinking about the news he was going to have to deliver to these already devastated agents.

_Well, that can wait a little bit._

"What happened this time, Barton?"

Clint just shook his head, his concerned eyes never leaving Natasha, who was wearing a dangerously stoic mask.

"We don't know. She saw something down there and…this happened. Tasha had to pull both of them out. Talia's been unresponsive since."

Coulson nodded once in acknowledgement. "How is Anastasia handling it?"

For a half a second, Clint's eyes flicked to his protégé and a glimmer of pride echoed in his gaze.

"As well as could be expected, I guess. But she's tough as nails, that one. She'll be alright, although I expect she won't leave Natalia's side until she wakes up."

"About that…" Coulson hesitated and Barton looked over at his handler. Coulson looked nervous and he kept running his hand over his forehead, which he only did when something was bothering him or he was really stressed.

"Just spit it out, Phil."

"We had to  _very_   _temporarily_  reassign Anastasia to a different team." Coulson let the words out in a huff and cringed, waiting for the livid reaction from the agent in front of him.

Barton certainly didn't disappoint.

"What do you mean  _temporarily reassign_?!" Clint spat the words through gritted teeth, just barely managing to keep his volume under control. His eyes were turning forebodingly dark and stormy. Coulson winced, but straightened his spine a little. He had withstood Barton's fury before and he could do it again. After all, he supposedly had the authority in this relationship.

"I mean that she has been, for a short time, moved from your care into the care of another agent."

Barton clenched his hands into fists and stepped forward, invading Coulson's personal space a bit.

"What the  _hell_ , Coulson?! Why was that necessary?!"

"There's another vital mission in the works and it requires someone with Anastasia's skill set. Director Fury saw fit to temporarily transfer her. The switch is not permanent. As soon as she returns from the mission she will resume her training under your supervision."

"And what if she doesn't return, what then? What if she doesn't come back because I'm not there to watch her back and some idiot messes up their job?"

Coulson felt a flash of annoyance, but he was careful to hide it from the seething agent he was speaking to. "All S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are more than qualified, Barton. The chances of anything happening to her are very low."

For a few heartbeats, only the sound of Clint's heavy breathing broke the silence.

"Who's she been assigned to?"

"Anastasia's been assigned to Agent Camilla Roberts, who is co-leading the mission with Agent Troy Rucker. Both the leaders have their own junior agents who will also be on the mission team. And of course there's a standard S.H.I.E.L.D. backup and extraction team."

"Why do they need Stasia?"

"They're going to be posing as a family and the family has a daughter. Stasia's physical attributes match Agents Roberts and Rucker almost perfectly. Since she was the best match and we know that she can play out a cover fairly well, she was the obvious choice."

Clint ground his teeth together and turned away from Coulson. He drummed his fingers against the wall in frustration, just staring at his trainee through the observation window. Tension ran up and down his muscles.

"You're just going to yank her away from her sister at a time like this?"

"We didn't know about Natalia yet when we set the mission team, Barton." Coulson moved so that he was standing next to Barton again, "She is technically allowed to opt out if she wants. She can plead a family emergency and since she's only a junior agent Fury can't technically order her out on a mission."

Clint visibly relaxed. "Okay. How soon do you need to know?"

"Can you just bring her out here now? It'll be the simplest way."

A quick nod to Coulson and Barton slipped back through the door into Natalia's room. He stepped over so that he was standing next to Stasia. Very gently he set his hands on her shoulders and rubbed circles into her back with his thumbs to help work out the knots that he could see forming in her back muscles. Stasia tensed at his touch, but slowly relaxed when she realized what he was doing.

"Stasia, Coulson's outside and he'd like a word, if that's alright."

Anastasia looked surprised, but she nodded. "Of course." She released Natalia's hand that she had been holding and stood up. Clint ushered her from the room. Natasha shot him a look full of questions but he just shook his head at her. Natasha shrugged; she could get answers later. As the two archers left the room she slid over into Stasia's seat and took Natalia's hand in her own, not saying a word, but rubbing soothing circles over the back of Talia's hand.

Anastasia didn't smile when she entered the observation room where Coulson was waiting for her.

"Hello Anastasia."

"Agent Coulson."

"How are you doing?"

Stasia shot him a  _please-don't-insult-me_  look. "My sister is in shock over I-don't-know-what. How do you think I'm doing?"

Coulson inclined his head, conceding the point. "I have something to tell you."

"Well then get on with it and tell me so I can go back to my sister."

Coulson let out a soft sigh. "We've had to temporarily reassign you."

At first, Anastasia thought that she had heard him wrong. "Excuse me?"

Pursing his lips, Coulson repeated his message. "We've had to temporarily reassign you to a different team."

Anastasia frowned. "I don't understand. Why? And what does that mean exactly?"

"You've been reassigned because you met all the parameters for the person that this team needed for their current mission. All that it means is that you'll go on the mission with the other team and when you return you'll resume your usual activities with your SO."

"Oh." Stasia shrugged. "That's not so bad. When is the other team's mission?"

Pausing, Coulson glanced at Natalia for half a second through the window. "They leave tomorrow."

Anastasia froze and her gaze turned from Coulson to her catatonic sister. A bit of panic was running through her at the thought of leaving her sister while she was weak and vulnerable, but then she saw Natasha and she realized what the older agent was doing.

_She's doing all of the things that I would normally do in this situation._

"You don't have to do it, Stasia." Clint could read the panic that was flying through the young girl easily. "You are allowed to opt out of emergency transfers because of a family emergency."

"No." Anastasia shook her head at her SO and turned to face Coulson. "I'll do the other mission."

Both Coulson and Barton looked surprised at the firmness of her statement.

"Are you sure?" Barton watched her face closely as she answered.

"Yeah." Stasia glanced back through the window, unwavering. "I think that, maybe, Natalia doesn't need me all the time anymore."

Neither of the senior agents responded to that; they weren't quite sure what to say. Finally, Clint cleared his throat, nodded and stepped back a little. Coulson gestured toward the door and Stasia followed him out, leaving her SO to return to his partner and the vigil they would keep at Natalia's bedside.

* * *

"So this is a fairly simple mission. It's you, the two senior agents, and their respective junior agents. I'll let them explain in more detail."

Anastasia nodded in acknowledgement as Coulson guided her through the halls. They came to a stop outside the door to one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s numerous conference rooms and, after sending a quick glance in Stasia's direction, Coulson opened the door and the pair entered. Automatically, Anastasia scanned the room and catalogued every little detail, including the people that were sitting at the table. The first was a woman, a little over average height with shoulder-length ginger hair. She had a smattering of freckles across her nose and a pair of bright green eyes sparkled when Anastasia and Coulson came in. Directly to her left was a tall (as best as Stasia could tell with him sitting down) man with friendly blue eyes. His blond hair was trimmed very short and when he smiled two rows of perfect teeth gleamed out at Stasia. A few chairs to the left of the woman, two younger boys were sitting with their heads together. They stopped talking when the door opened and both turned to look at the newcomers. The boy on the left had messy blonde hair with a few stray strands over his eyes. He was about Stasia's height and, like the woman, had spectacular green eyes. His ears stuck out slightly from the sides of his oval-shaped face. Next to him was the only dark-haired person in the room. This boy was a bit taller than his comrade and was sporting a nice tan. His black hair was also on the longer side, although not quite so much as the other boy's, and the ends of it lay flat against the edge of his forehead. He had warm brown eyes and Stasia thought that she could just make out the shape of contact lenses. All four of the people smiled when Coulson and Stasia stepped through the door and the woman rose out of her chair to greet them.

"Hello! You must be Anastasia. I'm Camilla Roberts and this is my partner Troy Rucker."

Anastasia took Camilla's offered hand firmly in her own. Troy gave her a friendly wave and she nodded and smiled in his direction as well. Stasia looked back at Coulson. He raised his eyebrows at her, as if to question her decision, but Stasia shrugged and smiled at him. He clasped her shoulder lightly before nodding at the two senior agents.

"I guess I'll leave you all to get better acquainted." Coulson shot one last glance at Stasia. "Make sure you stop in and say goodbye to them before you go."

"Of course." Stasia was surprised that Coulson thought he had to remind her. Satisfied, Coulson gave the room one last sweeping glance and headed back out the door.

"Why don't you have a seat?"

Camilla gestured to the empty chair between her seat and the dark haired boy and Stasia stepped over and sat down. She shot a glance at the two boys, who were both watching her curiously but quickly looked away when she caught them staring. Troy watched the exchange with amusement and smirked at the blushes that rose up on the two boys.

"These are our junior trainee agents, Ethan and Dylan." Troy gestured respectively to the blonde and the black haired boys. "Technically, Ethan is assigned to me and Dylan to Camilla, but we all work together all the time anyway so we don't worry about that too much." Dylan smiled shyly and ducked his head.

"Hey." Ethan grinned, obviously more comfortable with strangers.

"Hello." Stasia eyed both boys warily. She hadn't exactly had the best experience with members of the opposite sex; growing up in Russia would do that to you, especially with insurgents for parents. Camilla watched all three kids.

"Well, we're certainly going to have to work on that," she said matter-of-factly, "You guys-" she pointed to Ethan and Anastasia, "-are supposed to be related and you two-" this time she gestured between Anastasia and Dylan, "are supposed to have known each other pretty much since birth." Camilla's green eyes pierced Stasia and the latter fought the sudden urge to sit up straighter and fix her shirt.

"How much of the mission did Coulson explain to you?"

"Not much," replied Stasia, "just that I would be working with the four of you."

"Well then, we've got a lot of ground to cover." Troy flashed a comforting look at Anastasia; he could see that she felt a bit tense in the unfamiliar environment. "The gist of it is this: the four of us-" he made a small circle with his hand to indicate himself, Camilla, Ethan, and Anastasia, "are posing as a family vacationing at our beach cottage in Florida. Dylan is supposed to be Ethan's best friend."

"We would have used both the boys as the kids but we figured that Dylan's traits didn't quite match up with the rest of the 'family'," Camilla sounded slightly apologetic, "I am sorry that we had to pull you away from your team at this particular moment."

Stasia swallowed and pushed away thoughts of Talia lying motionless in her bed.

_She's not alone._

"It's okay," she responded quietly, "I understand that this is how S.H.I.E.L.D. works." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a quizzical look that passed between Ethan and Dylan.

_Apparently Camilla and Troy didn't share with their junior agents._

Shifting slightly in her chair, Anastasia looked at the two boys. There was no mistaking the confusion in their eyes, but they both seemed to be too polite, or at least tactful, to ask. Stasia knew that she would have to explain eventually, and now seemed a good enough time.

"My team just returned from a mission in Zimbabwe." She paused and took a breath. "My twin sister Natalia came back from that mission in catatonic shock and is currently in an unresponsive state and under medical observation."

Dylan and Ethan's eyes grew wider with every word that Anastasia said and for half a second she allowed the pain that she was truly feeling to show through on her face. She stomped on that just as quickly though, pushing those feelings back down under lock and key with as much force as she could muster.

_Talia will be fine. Clint and Natasha are with her._

That particular thought slowed Stasia's racing heart and melted the lump that had formed in her throat.

"Oh." Ethan broke the silence that had fallen in the few seconds after Stasia stopped speaking.

"Yeah." Stasia looked away from the two boys, back at the senior agents. "So what're the rest of the mission details?"

Troy cleared his throat and leaned forward. "There is a family, the Drakes, that lives across the street from the beach cottage we'll be staying in. S.H.I.E.L.D. believes that they're a part of a smuggling ring, bringing drugs in off of ships and distributing them across the country."

"How many in the family?" inquired Anastasia.

"Our sources tell us that there's four of them," answered Camilla, "two parents, Sarah and Brendan, and two daughters, Kelsey and Cara. Kelsey is seventeen and Cara is sixteen."

Stasia nodded thoughtfully. "And who are we?"

Camilla smiled; Anastasia was asking all of the right questions. "We are the Morgans. Troy and I are the parents, obviously, Anthony and Catherine. You, Anastasia, are our oldest at 16 and your name is Hannah. Ethan is your brother, younger by one year, named Nathaniel. Dylan is his best friend, same age, named Brandon Stewart."

"Sounds good." Stasia tilted her head to the side slightly. "How old are you guys actually?"

"Sixteen," replied Dylan and Ethan in unison. A blush rose up Dylan's neck again and Stasia couldn't help the small smile that crept across her face.

"Alright!" Camilla clapped her hands together. "We should probably get to packing. Any last questions?"

Ethan and Dylan both shook their heads but Stasia hesitated.

"What is it?" asked Troy. Anastasia bit her lip, and then decided to just go for it.

"Just tell me that Hannah Morgan doesn't have to wear any make up."

The two boys doubled over with laughter and Camilla and Troy beamed at Anastasia.

"She can do whatever you like, dear," said Camilla. Stasia grinned with relief and stood to head back to her room.

"Stasia?" Anastasia stopped and turned back when Troy called her name. "It's good to have you on board."

Stasia looked at him for a moment and nodded slightly. "Thank you. I think I made the right choice." She turned then and left the four friends to themselves.

* * *

Natasha looked up when Clint reentered the observation room, frowning when she saw that he was alone.

"Where's Stasia?"

Clint's nostrils flared a little bit. "She's with Coulson. They just left."

"Left? Why?" Natasha looked alarmed.

"She's been temporarily reassigned. They needed her on another mission."

"And she just went along with that?"

 _Only Natasha could make a whisper sound angry._  Clint nodded. Natasha looked back at the unmoving blonde on the bed.

"Why would she just leave Natalia? Especially now?"

"Well, you should know…" Clint hesitated, but Natasha raised her eyebrows at him and he knew that he had no choice but to tell her now. "The last thing she said was she thought that, maybe, Natalia didn't need her all the time anymore." Clint paused again, gauging Natasha's reaction. "She was looking at you, Nat."

Natasha froze with the exception of her hand, which was still drawing light circles on Natalia's palm.

"Where is she now?"

Clint glanced at his watch. "She has a meeting with the senior agents in charge of the mission and then she'll be back in her room, packing. Natasha?"

Natasha had stood up abruptly. "Stay with Natalia, Barton."

"Natasha-"

But before Clint could get in another word his partner was out the door. Sighing, he sat down in Natasha's vacated seat, still warm from her body heat, to wait on her return. He rested his cheek on his hand, comtemplating Natalia's motionless form. Clint didn't hold her hand or anything-that would have been a little awkward. As he watched the shallow rise and fall of her chest, Clint realized that he didn't know Natalia nearly as well as he knew her sister.

"I'll fix that Natalia. Just as soon as you wake up." He leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands.

"You have to know that it's killing Anastasia. I know it is, even if she's not here. I guess sometimes you have to run from your problems to solve them." Clint stared down at the floor and let a few heartbeats pass before he spoke again.

"It's killing Natasha too."

He let the words hang in the silence. Natalia wouldn't know their significance, but Clint understood. Natasha didn't let herself care; not about anyone or anything. She said it was a weakness. Clint exhaled slowly.

"You're a weakness for her Natalia. Please, please, don't hurt her. Come back to us Natalia. Whatever it is, we can help you. Trust me, we've been there before, so many times. Just…come home Natalia."

Clint dropped his face into his hands and his shoulders slumped with exhaustion and worry.

"Just come home."

* * *

Natasha flitted through the halls along a path that she had come to know very well. She paused for half a second outside Anastasia's door and tilted her head to the side. After a moment she heard the sounds of a suitcase being packed coming from inside the room and she knocked lightly. The door cracked open and Stasia's face appeared.

"Natasha?" Surprised, the girl stepped back and swung the door open wide enough for Natasha to enter. Natasha slipped in and Stasia shut the door behind her.

"What is it? Is Talia-?"

"It's not that, she's the same." Natasha shook her head, quickly putting the panic in Anastasia's eyes to rest.

"Then what?" Anastasia grabbed a stack of clothes off of her dresser and began setting them inside the suitcase that was on her bed. "Why did you leave her?"

"I needed to know…" Natasha hesitated, biting her lip. Stasia looked up from her packing and her face softened.

"You needed to know why I'm leaving, how I could possibly leave her now," she said quietly. Natasha nodded. Anastasia sighed and forced herself to resume packing.

"How many times has Clint been severely injured on a mission, Natasha?"

Natasha was taken aback. "Quite a few, I suppose."

"And did you stay with him, all the time, every time?"

Natasha wanted nothing more than to say that she had, that she had faithfully guarded her partner's bedside all those times, but she knew that she couldn't do so honestly.

"You didn't, did you? Then you already know the answer to your question." Anastasia picked up her toiletry bag and settled it in among her clothes. "You know why I can't stay."

Natasha shook head. "This is different. Clint always knew when I wasn't there. Has Natalia ever woken up from an injury without you there?"

"No, but it doesn't matter. I already told her that I'm leav-" Stasia smacked a hand over her mouth. Natasha raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yes, Stasia?"

"Never mind," muttered the blonde, turning away from Natasha. Less than two seconds later Stasia found herself pinned against the wall with a face full of red hair.

"Tell me, Anastasia."

"I can't, Natasha." Stasia strained against the iron grip that Natasha had on her wrists.

"Well you aren't going anywhere until you do."

"I promised, Natasha. I can't tell you."

"Promised who?" Natasha's breath was hot against Anastasia's ear.

"Natalia."

The pressure on Stasia's wrists relaxed and she pushed off the wall, eyeing Natasha warily. Natasha held up her hands in defense of herself.

"I don't do well with secrets, Stasia."

"Could've fooled me." Natasha shot her a puzzled look but Stasia simply zipped up her suitcase and started toward the door.

"Stasia?"

"Yes?"

"Why haven't you ever left her before?" Anastasia stopped with one foot out the door and looked back.

"Because I never had anyone I could trust to protect her." She turned and walked out without giving Natasha a chance to respond. The redhead was left staring at the empty doorway, wondering when and how they all ended up so damn compromised.


	12. Watching Some Good Friend Screaming

**Chapter 12: Watching Some Good Friend Screaming**

Anastasia sat down in the waiting area for gate B12 at LaGuardia Airport. She reached into her carry-on bag and pulled out the greatest defense weapon she had brought with her. Ethan plopped down into the seat next to her and snorted when he saw what she was holding.

"Really, Hannah? You don't need SPF 50 to keep from getting a sunburn."

"Unless you want to come back from this trip as pale as you are right now, of course."

Dylan swung down into the seat next to Ethan and shot Anastasia a dazzling smile to accompany his jibe. His shy personality had completely disappeared behind his Brandon Stewart persona. Anastasia gave them both a condescending glare worth of an older sister and began rubbing the viscous sunscreen into her legs.

"One caramel Frappuccino, no whip, extra caramel sauce!" Anastasia looked up and grinned when the sound of Camilla's voice reached her. She took the drink and set it down in her chair's cup holder.

"Thanks Mom."

"Where's mine?!" Ethan looked expectantly at Camilla, who was holding only one other coffee cup.

"You're welcome dear," said Camilla, "and your father has your drink, Nathaniel."

She stepped to the side and Troy tossed something at Ethan. Instinctively, the boy reached up and caught the bottle of Aquafina that had practically hit him in the face. He stared wordlessly at it and Anastasia broke down in laughter.

At least she did until she caught sight of Troy's disapproving stare. Immediately, she put on her defensive-teenage-girl face because she knew what was coming.

"Hannah, don't you think that dress is a little too short?"

Anastasia sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. The dress was strapless turquoise lace and fell about mid-thigh.

"No Dad, I don't think that. If I did, I wouldn't be wearing it."

"You listen here, young lady-" Troy cut off when Camilla set a hand on his arm.

"Its fine, Anthony. Let her wear the dress." Troy grumbled a little but raised no further protest.

_Thank you,_  mouthed Anastasia to Camilla. The latter just smiled and took a drink of her coffee.

"How long do we have to sit here?" whined Ethan. Troy consulted his watch.

"Boarding starts in half an hour. You boys can go run around the airport if you want-" Troy hadn't even finished speaking and Ethan and Dylan were up and out of their seats. "You boys be careful and don't break anything!"

Camilla stared after the two boys. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"It's a better idea than that dress," muttered Troy, thinking he was quiet enough to avoid detection, but Camilla and Anastasia glared at him anyway. He raised his hands in surrender and took a seat next to Camilla. Anastasia squeezed some more sunscreen into her hand and set about passing the half hour wait by being the teenage girl who was annoyed with her parents.

* * *

Three hours, a tiny pack of pretzels, and several cans of ginger ale later, Stasia and her 'family' were standing in the blistering sun of Key West, FL. Stasia stretched her arms and arched her back, grateful to be off the commercial airliner they had flown here on.

_I've really gotten spoiled with the private jet S.H.I.E.L.D. usually flies us around in._

The thought of their private jet tightened the knot of worry that lay in Stasia's stomach. She couldn't be in contact with Clint or Natasha as long as she was on this other mission so she knew that she wouldn't hear any updates on Talia, not until the mission was over.

_But I'm sure I'll know when she wakes up. She'll say something, respond to my good-bye, something._

Stasia's worry must have shown through onto her face because Camilla came to stand next to her and slipped an arm around her shoulder.

"Hey, I really am sorry that it didn't work for Natalie to come and stay with us. I would've much rather had her than clone-Nathaniel over there."

Gratitude surged through Anastasia. She grinned a little when she glanced over at where Ethan and Dylan were 'fighting' each other. Looking back at Camilla, she saw concern in the older agent's eyes.

"It's okay," Stasia smiled reassuringly to let Camilla know that she really was fine, "I'm sure we'll be talking soon enough." She held up the 'phone' that she was carrying. It was an iPhone; or rather, it was an emergency connection to SHIELD masquerading as an iPhone. Camilla rolled her eyes in a motherly fashion at the technology and gave Stasia's shoulders one last squeeze before picking up her suitcase.

"There's the shuttle!" Troy beckoned to Camilla and Anastasia. "Boys, get over here or we're leaving you behind!"

Ethan and Dylan joined the other three somewhat reluctantly.

"You wouldn't really leave us behind," objected Dylan. Anastasia, who had been examining her nails in a very teenage-girl fashion, snorted, drawing Dylan's attention to her.

"You underestimate me," she muttered. Dylan's eyes lingered on her long after she had stopped talking. Internally, Stasia grinned.

_So that's how we're going to play this. Younger-brother's-best-friend-has-crush-on-older-sister type thing._

She wrapped her hand around the handle of her suitcase and stepped up to the curb, a dignified air hanging around her while she pretended to ignore the interested stare that Dylan was giving her. He finally broke his gaze as the shuttle came to a stop and as they all boarded the van, Stasia smirked.

_This should be an interesting mission._

* * *

"Argggghhhhh!" Stasia jumped and spluttered as the icy cold water splashed against her skin. She pushed her sunglasses up onto her head and turned a glare as cold as Russian winter on the two culprits. Funnily enough, Ethan and Dylan didn't look sorry at all. They were both dripping wet and Ethan was holding a blue bucket that had previously held water. Water that was now dripping all over Anastasia.

"Was that really necessary?" Stasia cocked an eyebrow at the both of them and they just grinned mischievously.

"Well if you would just get in the water…." hinted Dylan.

"Not gonna happen." Sighing, Stasia stood up and grabbed her towel, which was now soaking wet.

"Mom, I'm going to run back to the cottage and get a fresh towel."

Camilla rolled over and nodded to show her assent. "Okay. Be careful."

"I will," called Anastasia over her shoulder. She headed to the bridge that led back to their cottage, sand working its way between her bare toes. The little blue rotunda that they were staying in came into view and she hurried up the steps to get a new towel. Stasia casually glanced out the window at the house they were monitoring as she snagged her extra towel. At first she didn't realize what she saw, but a quick double take confirmed that there were people coming out of the house. Her hand closed around her towel and she darted over to the door, letting it slam behind her. Two girls who looked about Stasia's age were standing at the end of the driveway, impatiently tapping their feet. Painting what she hoped was a neighborly look on her face, Anastasia crossed the street.

"Hello!"

Both girls spun around at the sound of her voice. One was just slightly taller and had her bleach-blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. They had the same soft brown eyes, but the shorter of the two had her bleach-blonde hair hanging loose around her shoulders. Taking in Stasia and her deceptively unthreatening form, they both smiled warmly.

"Hi there!" The taller girl smiled and took a step forward. Anastasia came to a stop a few feet from the girls, who were both dressed in bikinis and terrycloth beach covers, set for a day at the beach.

"I'm Hannah Morgan," she introduced herself and gestured to the cottage that she had just come from, "My family is spending a week or so in our cottage."

"I'm Kelsey Drake," responded the taller girl, "and this is my sister, Cara."

"We live here," added Cara. Stasia sighed in pretend envy.

"You are so lucky. I would kill to live this close to a beach."

"Eh. You can get bored of it after a while," Kelsey shrugged. "Where do you guys live?"

"Montville, NJ," replied Stasia with an eye roll. "It's terrible, really."

"I'm sure it's lovely," said Cara. Just then, the door at the top of the stairs swung open. All three girls looked up as a woman, a man, and a younger girl came out. The three joined Stasia, Cara, and Kelsey at the end of the driveway.

"And who is this?" asked the woman, eyeing Anastasia interestedly.

"Mom, this is Hannah. She and her family are staying across the street for a couple weeks."

"Very nice to meet you Hannah. I'm Lisa Drake and this is my husband Kevin."

Stasia took Lisa's offered hand and shook it firmly. The younger girl, who looked about fourteen, was very quiet and looked like she very much wanted to be somewhere else.

"Ah, and this is, uh, our younger sister, uh, Eliana." Kelsey stammered a bit over the introduction. Stasia temporarily ignored the fact that the Drakes weren't supposed to have a younger sister and smiled brightly, genuinely, at the girl. Eliana pulled back into the shadows, watching Stasia with wary eyes. After a few seconds, she must have decided that the warmth and kindness she saw in Anastasia's eyes were sincere because she gave a tentative smile. Lisa opened her mouth to say something more, but she never got the chance.

"Hannah!" Anastasia spun around and saw Ethan and Dylan jogging toward them. She rolled her eyes and gave a quiet groan.

"Hey," Ethan reached her first, slightly out of breath. "Mom sent us to check on you; you were taking a while."

"Well that wouldn't have been a problem, would it, if  _someone_  hadn't dumped water all over me and, more importantly, my towel." Stasia glared at the two of them as Dylan caught up to Ethan. She turned, rolling her eyes again, back to the Drakes, who were watching with polite interest.

"This is my younger brother Nathaniel and his friend Brandon." Each boy raised a hand in greeting and all of the Drakes, save Eliana, nodded and smiled in return. Dylan returned his attention to Anastasia, a tiny bit of excitement creeping into his expression.

"Are you coming back now? We need someone to dump into the water."

Stasia raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. "Then I suggest you go find someone who won't kill you if you dunk them."

Dylan and Ethan paled slightly because even though they knew that Hannah Morgan would never actually kill them, there was a chance that if they pushed Anastasia Silivanov too far that she might actually make good on that threat. Stasia smirked at the hesitant fear that echoed in the boys' eyes.

"Tell Mom that I'm coming. I'm going to walk with the Drakes, assuming that's alright?" She directed the end of her question at Kelsey and Cara.

"Of course," said Kelsey and Cara nodded. Stasia looked back at Ethan and Dylan.

"So you can go now." She let some annoyance creep into her tone, implying that she very much wanted them gone. The boys took the not-so-subtle hint and turned tail, taking off for the beach.

"Ah, teenage boys." Kevin Drake spoke for the first time, shaking his head and smiling at the retreating backs of the two boys.

"Tell me about it," muttered Stasia, sighing a little as the group started their trek over to the beach.

"So are you stuck here with only them for company?" inquired Cara. Anastasia nodded.

"It's dreadful. My friend Natalie was going to come, but then she got sick and couldn't make it. So I got stuck with dumb and dumber over there."

"Oh you poor thing." Kelsey gave her a sympathetic look. "You have to spend some time with us while you're hear, otherwise you'll go absolutely insane."

"I'd like that." Stasia did her best not to sound too eager, but here was the perfect opportunity, just laying itself at her feet.

_Looks like I'll be getting some one-on-one time with the targets._

"Absolutely." Cara spun around to face their mother. "Mom, can we take Anastasia to the ice cream shop on the boardwalk tomorrow?"

"I don't see why not, as long as her parents are okay with it."

"I'm sure they'll be fine with it." They all stepped off of the wooden bridge into the blistering sand. Stasia pointed to where Camilla and Troy were lounging in the sun.

"They're right over there. Why don't we go ask?"

"Yes, you girls do that and we'll come set up next to you guys." Kevin took the extra chairs from Kelsey and Cara and the three girls jogged down the sand, moving quickly to keep their feet from burning.

"Hey, Mom!"

Camilla rolled over and looked up when Anastasia called to her. She pushed herself into a sitting position and waited until the girls all came to a stop in front of her.

"Yes, Hannah?"

"Mom, this is Kelsey and Cara Drake, they live in that white house across the street."

"Oh, hello." Camilla smiled up at them blindly and Anastasia cut back in impatiently.

"So we were going to go get some ice cream tomorrow at a local shop. Is that okay?"

"Mhm, yeah that's fine, sweetie." Stasia exchanged a grin with both Drake girls and they began spreading their towels next to Anastasia's.

"Don't forget your sunscreen!" Camilla threw the white bottle at Stasia's head and the latter caught it, grumbling.

_I always thought there would never be a day when I wished that I wasn't Russian. I stand corrected._

* * *

"Oh wow, this is incredible!"

Anastasia licked the rapidly melting cocoa-crunch ice cream from her waffle cone.

"I know, isn't it?" Cara carefully wrapped a napkin around her cone of cookie dough ice cream. "Plus, it's not super well known, so there's no line."

"Mhmm."

"Totally worth the walk down here." Kelsey glanced over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. "Even if we had to drag little nuisance there along with us."

Eliana slipped up alongside her older sisters, nursing a kid's cone of plain vanilla. Anastasia smiled warmly.

"I don't mind at all. She's the perfect angel compared to the two devils I have to put up with."

"Fair point," said Cara with a shudder, "We could have a younger brother."

Kelsey grimaced and the foursome meandered their way back out into the sun. Anastasia hovered halfway between the older girls and Eliana, chatting with Kelsey and Cara and trying to coax a response out of the younger girl. Stasia found herself drawn to the mystery that Eliana posed. She had confirmed with Camilla last night that no Intel anywhere from anyone said anything about a younger Drake sister. Something about the difference in Eliana's personality and the way that she acted around her 'family' was setting off alarm bells in Stasia's head; the kind of alarm bells that Clint and Natasha had taught her to pay attention to. Anastasia was determined to figure her out, although things would be going much smoother if the girl would just talk!

_I'll get the truth eventually. Maybe I just need to get to know her a little better first._

And just like that, Stasia had a new mission objective, having already done her part in making contact with the Drake girls.

_Now the question is how do I show interest in Eliana without making Kelsey and Cara think that I'm a total loser?_

Anastasia shrugged to herself; she would figure out a plan in time. For now she just smiled at Eliana and watched the curious way that the girl shrunk back from the attention, as if she were afraid of it. Stasia chased a drip of ice cream from the tip of her cone to the base and she heard a tiny, practically silent, giggle from her right and she smiled.

_Well, that's a start._

* * *

"That looks like fun."

A shadow fell over Eliana as Anastasia came to stand in front of her. Stasia squatted down and looked at the ditch the young girl had dug out in the sand. Eliana watched her with wide eyes, not saying a word. Anastasia pointed to the small yellow bucket that was lying beside the ditch.

"Would you like to build a sandcastle?" A little spark of excitement lit up in Eliana's eyes at Stasia's question and she nodded. Stasia picked up the bucket and stood up.

"How about I get some water and you pick out a nice spot for us?"

Eliana nodded again and stood up as well. Stasia headed down toward the water, leaving Eliana behind her scouting out the beach. By the time Anastasia had filled the bucket, Eliana was sitting on a nice, flat spot. She was holding a plastic shovel and her eyes didn't leave Anastasia once as the older girl made her way over. Stasia leaned in toward Eliana and whispered,

"I'll tell you a secret. I've never made a sandcastle in my life."

Eliana's eyes grew wide with surprise and, almost as if she couldn't stop herself, she whispered back,

"Never?"

"Never." Stasia set the bucket down on the sand next to Eliana. "So you'll have to help me, because I don't have any idea what to do."

Eliana picked up the shovel and carefully dug out a small hole in the sand. She picked a spot where the sand wasn't wet, but it wasn't super dry and hot either. She set the shovel to the side and pointed to the bucket, and then to the hole.

"Pour the water there?" Eliana nodded. Stasia picked up the bucket and poured the water slowly into the hole. It sank into the ground and moistened the sand in and around the hole. Eliana tossed a little bit of dry sand into the hole and mixed it up with her hands, making the perfect mixture of wet and dry sand. She gestured to the bucket again and Anastasia handed it to her. Using her hands, Eliana scooped the sand into the bucket, packing it down tightly. When she had filled the bucket to the brim, she surveyed the spot she had picked out critically. She finally picked a spot sort of in the middle and turned the bucket upside down. Gently, she squeezed the sides and tapped the bottom of the bucket before lifting it straight up. There on the sand was a perfect little sand tower and Eliana smiled brightly. She turned to look at Anastasia who was also grinning.

"That looks very nice." Eliana held out the plastic shovel to Stasia, who took it, surprised.

"Your turn," said the younger girl softly. Leaving no time for objection, Eliana scooped up the bucket and headed off down to the water. Anastasia stared at the shovel in her hand for a moment and then shrugged and began digging a small hole in the sand.

.

.

.

An hour later and Anastasia and Eliana had a quality sandcastle built. The towers that Anastasia had made were a little crumbly around the top, but neither girl cared. They had discovered that Stasia was particularly good at carving out windows in the towers without ruining them so she was in charge of that while Eliana focused on making the towers. She still didn't talk loudly, but she laughed and smiled and said a few quiet words every now and then. Eliana carefully completed the final tower, one that was actually three towers stacked on each other. She carefully turned the bucket over and balanced the final piece on top. When she lifted the bucket up, she grinned happily at her creation. While Anastasia set about carving little windows into the three-part tower, Eliana began digging the moat around their castle. After she finished the windows, Stasia picked up the bucket and went to get water to fill the moat. Eliana carefully lined the moat with water-saturated sand so that the water they poured into it wouldn't sink down into the sand. After five or six trips with the bucket, they finally had enough to fill the moat. Stasia set the bucket down and, along with Eliana, surveyed their sandcastle.

"I think that it looks wonderful." Stasia held up a hand to Eliana and the younger girl slapped her a high-five.

"Eliana!"

Stasia and Eliana both turned to see Lisa Drake standing by the bridge at the edge of the beach. Eliana sighed a little and picked up her bucket and shovel. As she started to leave, Anastasia stopped her.

"Thank you for teaching me about sandcastles Eliana." Stasia put as much genuine warmth and friendship into the words as she possible could. Eliana smiled back, a real smile.

"You're welcome," she whispered. Stasia let go of her arm then and Eliana turned to go.

"Goodbye Eliana."

Eliana didn't say anything as she walked away, but when she was about halfway to her mother she whispered to herself,

"Goodbye Hannah."

 


	13. Let Me Out

**Chapter 13: Let Me Out**

"You're certainly spending a lot of time with that Hannah girl." Lisa Drake eyed her daughters critically. "There better be a good reason for it."

"There is, Mom." Kelsey glanced at the empty doorway, checking for eavesdroppers. "She's a potential."

Lisa nodded and looked to Cara for confirmation.

"She lives in New Jersey. We don't have a contact there," affirmed Cara.

"When are you bringing her in?"

Kelsey glanced at her sister. "How does tonight work?"

"I'll make chicken casserole," replied Lisa, turning on her heel and walking out. Kelsey and Cara shared a smile and returned to putting away their new clothes.

* * *

Anastasia hummed to herself, searching her closet for something to wear. Ethan poked his head into her room.

"What are you so happy about?"

Stasia spun around, pretending to be surprised, even though she had known he was there.

"I'm going over to the Drake's for dinner."

"You're ditching out on us? But we're going to the Crab Shack tonight!"

A second head, one with darker hair, looked into Stasia's room when he heard Ethan's voice.

"You're not coming to dinner?" An air of disappointment hung about Dylan as he spoke. Anastasia rolled her eyes like any other older sister would.

"No I'm not. Maybe if people don't see me with you two in public, they won't know that we're related."

"Ouch, that hurts." Ethan clutched his heart dramatically.

"And you wonder why I don't want to go to dinner with you," muttered Stasia, turning back to her closet. "Now go away; I have to figure out what I'm going to wear."

Ethan darted off right away, but Dylan lingered.

"Are you sure you don't want to come to dinner with us?"

Anastasia turned around again and was surprised to find that the disappointment in his eyes looked real.

As in real, real. Not the playacted kind that he had been playing up all week while he acted the part of lovesick little boy. Anastasia looked at him quizzically, but as fast as the real disappointment had shown up, it vanished again.

_I must be seeing things._

"Yes, I'm sure. I think I'll go spend some time with civilized company," she teased. Dylan rolled his eyes and started to leave, then stopped once more.

"You should wear the blue one," he said softly, "It looks the best."

Surprise jolted through Stasia, but by the time she had turned around to question Dylan about that particular remark, the boy had vanished. She shook her head in wonder and pulled the light blue summer dress out of the closet.

_Since when does Dylan tell me I look good in something when no one is around to care about his cover story?_

She shrugged and pushed the thought out of her mind, putting her focus on her mission tonight. She was hoping to find out something, anything useful really. Dinner would be a perfect time to do that.

Little did she know that she would be learning much more than she bargained for tonight.

* * *

"This chicken was absolutely fantastic." Anastasia lifted her napkin from her lap and dabbed at her mouth with it. "Thank you so much for having me over."

"Oh, it was our pleasure." Lisa stood up and took Stasia's empty plate. "Eliana, you go up to your room now. I'll bring your desert up to you."

Eliana stood slowly, looking at Anastasia. When Stasia met the younger girl's gaze, she was surprised to see a glimmer of sadness lingering there. She frowned ever so slightly, but then Eliana smiled at her and retreated to the stairs. Kelsey and Cara both pushed back away from the table and gestured toward the sitting room.

"C'mon, let's go settle down in here. Mom will bring the desert in for us."

Obligingly, Anastasia rose and followed them into the room, taking a seat in the armchair next to the sofa where the two sisters sat down. A moment later, Kevin Drake entered the room and sat down in the recliner next to the gas fireplace that was currently off thanks to the Florida heat. Barely two minutes had passed when Lisa walked in carrying a tray ladened with plates of chocolate-coconut cake. She passed one to each person sitting down before taking one for herself. She frowned at the extra one for a moments, as if she was wondering why she had a sixth plate. Kelsey looked at her mom's puzzled face for one heartbeat, then reminded her.

"It's for Eliana, Mom. She went upstairs, remember?"

"Oh of course. How silly of me. I'll be right back down." She vanished through the doorway. Anastasia watched her go, curious. Kelsey and Cara were watching her closely; Anastasia would say that they were wary if she had to give it a name. She painted a smile across her face and took a small bite of the cake, trying it cautiously. The watchful expressions melted off the Drake girls' faces and they too dug into their cake. Stasia feigned delighted interest in the coconut flakes, watching the girls and Kevin from under her eyelids while she waited for Lisa to return. Kevin was drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair, watching Anastasia while pretending to be doing everything  _but_  watching her. Kelsey and Cara chatted quietly, forcing Anastasia into conversation with them. She acted completely oblivious; she had too, since Hannah Morgan wouldn't know how to take stock of a situation.

_Something big is about to go down. This can't be good._

Finally, Lisa walked back in, sat down in a chair next to her husband and picked up her cake. Kevin cleared his throat and Kelsey and Cara stopped talking suddenly to look at him. Half a second after them, Stasia also turned her gaze to the family patriarch.

"So, Hannah, what have Kelsey and Cara told you about our family?"

"Oh not much, we've had plenty of other things to chat about," trilled Anastasia as if the entire room hadn't just shifted into a dark mood. "They mentioned that your work takes you all over the world. I was so jealous when I heard they got to go to Belgium; I mean really, who wouldn't want to go to the chocolate capital of the world?"

The four Drakes all forced chuckles as that and Stasia forced herself to ignore the growing tension in the room. Kevin took a deep breath and leaned forward.

"Listen Hannah, our work….I suppose you could call it a family business. It takes all of us to run it, plus a handful of people all over the United States."

"I'm sure that makes wonderful bonding time," commented Stasia.

"Yes quite." Kevin folded his hands. "Let me get straight to the point: we'd like you to join us in our business."

Real shock showed on Anastasia's face. That was  _not_  what she had been expecting to hear. She froze for a few seconds and then shook her head slightly to clear it. "I'm sorry, what?"

Kelsey turned to her eagerly. "We want you to become a part of our business. You would be one of our contacts. We don't have anyone in New Jersey yet. The pay is pretty good."

Furrowing her brow, Stasia pretended to be thinking hard, considering what questions to ask.

"What exactly is your business? You never mentioned really…"

"We receive shipments of certain  _products_  that are in high demand and low supply here in the United States and distribute them to our contacts throughout the fifty states and they in turn distribute them to our clientele." The way that Lisa put a special emphasis on the word products and the way that each of the family members was intently watching for her reaction made Anastasia pause. Of course, she already knew that the Drakes were part of a drug smuggling ring, but Hannah Morgan certainly didn't. She let that fact settle with Hannah and reacted appropriately.

"Oh. I see."

"So, what do you think?" Cara was impatient and wanted an answer quickly. Stasia bit her lip and let her face fall convincingly.

"I…don't think I can. I'm sorry."

Disappointment showed clearly on everyone else's faces. Lisa was the first to recover.

"That's perfectly alright, dear. If you change your mind, you just let us know. You won't mention anything to anyone, will you?"

"Uh, no, of course not." Anastasia got to her feet a little awkwardly. "I think I better go. Thank you for dinner." She turned and fled the house, leaving fast enough that she didn't see the small, surprised face hiding in the shadows at the top of the stairs.

* * *

Eliana crouched at the top of the staircase, hiding out of view, but close enough that she could hear the conversation. Her heart weighed heavy; she had seen all too many people come to dinner and get sucked into the family business in the process. She always felt terrible about it, but there was little that she could do, especially given her current predicament. This particular recruitment hurt Eliana more than usual though, simply because Hannah had taken the time to care about her instead of just brushing her off as the annoying younger sister. Hannah had been a friend to her, and now she would lose another friend to the industry. Eliana sighed and forced down the lump that rose in her throat. She heard her father's spiel start and her mother's glorified euphemism for their line of work and then the usual silence that followed it. Eliana braced herself, waiting for her newest friend to jump off the cliff.

She wasn't expecting what she heard next. She blinked a few times, certain that she had heard wrong. But, no, because here was Hannah, flying out of the sitting room and vacating the premises as fast as she possibly could. Eliana stared after the girl for a moment, shocked.

_Did she just say…no?_

As the shock began to fade, fear settled in Eliana's heart. She turned her ears back to the conversation in the living room.

"….didn't go as well as planned. Something needs to be done."

"It's a shame really. She was such a nice girl."

"Yeah…so who's on disposal duty this go 'round?"

"I think its Kelsey and me."

"Well, get it done tonight, before she can get any word out about us."

"Of course."

A cold fist closed around Eliana's heart. Her one friend in this world that the industry hadn't corrupted and they were just going to cross her off. She would be gone, and Eliana would be all alone in the world again.

_I can't let that happen._

Eliana slipped back into her room, quiet as a mouse, and eased open her window. A new sense of purpose accompanied her usual fear; finally she had a purpose.

_Hold on Hannah, I'm coming._

* * *

Anastasia ran up the stairs into the cottage, flying through the door. The light shining through the windows told her that the rest of the team was already back from their dinner. When she burst into the room, they all looked up, surprised. Camilla was the first to register the look on Stasia's face and recover.

"What is it? What's happened?" She quickly went to Stasia's side and wrapped her arms around her, gently guiding the younger girl to the sofa.

"They, um," Anastasia swallowed as Dylan, Ethan, and Troy came to sit next to her, "They asked me to join their 'business'."

Silence fell around the room when Anastasia's words registered with the rest of the team.

"Obviously you said no," muttered Dylan. Stasia gave him a withering glare and looked up at Camilla.

"What do we do?"

Camilla pursed her lips and opened her mouth to answer when she was interrupted by a noise coming from the back rooms of the cottage.

_Taptaptaptaptap._

Five heads turned toward the noise, instantly alert.

"I think…" Stasia tilted her head to the side, listening to the tapping some more. "Yeah, that's my room."

She stood up without a second thought and started to move when Dylan grabbed her arm.

"You don't know who that is," he said, "Whoever is out there could be waiting to kill you."

Anastasia frowned a bit at the concern in his eyes. "It wouldn't be the first time," she told him.

His own frown deepened, as did the ones on Camilla, Troy, and Ethan's faces. Anastasia sighed, beginning to realize how flexible Clint and Natasha were with S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol.

"I can take care of myself," she insisted and wrenched her arm from Dylan's grasp, stalking off to her bedroom. The rest of the team followed several feet behind her, watching her every move. She walked over to her window and lifted it up, then poked her head out. She didn't see anyone at first, until a small voice whispered from below her window.

"Down here, Hannah." Her gaze dropped down and she saw Eliana clinging to the side of the cottage.

"Eliana?" she whispered in surprise. Quickly she reached down and extended a hand to the younger girl, pulling her up through the window frame. "What are you doing here?"

"I have to warn you…" The younger girl spoke barely loud enough for Stasia to hear.

"Warn me about what?" Anastasia set Eliana down on the bed and looked over her shoulder at the doorway. "You guys can come in; it's just Eliana, she's fine."

The rest of the team crept into the room, staying close to the doorway. Stasia turned back to Eliana.

"Now, what's wrong sweetheart?"

"Uh…Hannah?" Anastasia waved a hand at Dylan, ignoring him. Eliana was watching the people behind Anastasia with apprehension, but she swallowed noisily and looked back at Stasia.

"They're coming for you," she whispered.

"Who, Eliana?"

"Hannah, this is kinda important…"

Anastasia continued pointedly ignoring Dylan, keeping all of her attention on Eliana, who wetted her lips nervously.

"Kelsey and Cara."

"When, Eliana?"

"Anastasia!"

The shock of hearing her real name for the first time in over a week finally got Anastasia's attention.

"What?!"

Dylan pointed to the doorway. "They've already been here."

The entire house quivered as Anastasia looked out the doorway and saw what Dylan had already picked up on. Bright orange flames were licking all around the sitting room and other rooms at the front of the house. The old cottage didn't have smoke alarms and it was hot enough outside that they hadn't noticed the added heat from the fire that was about to take down the house. Anastasia paled, but steeled her nerves. She knew that she wasn't technically in charge of this mission, but at this point, she didn't care.

"We need to get out." Without waiting for a response, she turned to Eliana and held out a hand. "C'mon, Eliana. We're leaving."

Eliana crept forward, but as soon as she saw the fire she leapt back, shaking with fear. Anastasia took one look at her and knew that Eliana wasn't going through that fire without a fight. There was no hesitation in what she did next.

"Go," she told Camilla and the rest of the team, "Get yourselves out."

"No!" Dylan yelled, staring at her in horror, "We aren't leaving you!"

"Yes, you are," insisted Anastasia. Her eyes implored Camilla, begging her to understand that she had to do this and to just go. Camilla saw the determination in Anastasia's eyes and nodded ever so slightly.

"You get yourself out Anastasia; that is an order." Camilla waited for Anastasia's confirmation, even though it was a promise that she knew Anastasia couldn't keep.

"Of course," said Stasia, "Now,  _leave_."

Camilla locked an iron grip onto Dylan's wrist and pulled the boy from the room, fighting him the entire way. Troy cast one last uncertain glance at Anastasia, then forced Ethan from the room with considerably less trouble than Camilla was having with Dylan. Anastasia whipped around and knelt down so that Eliana was forced to look at her.

"We are going to get out of here, okay sweetie? Now I need you to be very brave for me, can you do that?"

Eliana shook her head forcefully. "I'm not brave. I can't do it."

The flames were licking at the wall of the bedroom now but Anastasia ignored them, ignored the shaking of the house beneath their feet. She grabbed Eliana's hands and gripped them tight.

"You  _can_  do it. I know you can. I look at you and I see one very brave girl. I see a courageous girl who came to save me even though it might have gotten her in a lot of trouble." Anastasia forced Eliana to meet her eyes. "Now it's my turn to save her."

Eliana shrunk back as the fire broke down the door. Anastasia didn't flinch and kept a steady pressure on Eliana's hands.

"I can't, Hannah," she whispered, "You should go."

"Never." Anastasia sat down next to Eliana on the bed. "I want you to do something for me okay?"

Eliana nodded. "I want you to close your eyes, and picture your favorite place in the whole world."

Eye lids closed over bright green eyes and Eliana's face smoothed out as she pictured her place. Anastasia wrapped her arms around Eliana, forcibly ignoring the flames, coming ever closer.

"Are you in that place?" Eliana nodded again. Anastasia slid an arm underneath Eliana's legs, keeping the other arm strong around her shoulders. Eliana's head fell on Stasia's right shoulder.

"Okay. I want you to tell me all about it. Whisper it right here in my ear. Tell me who's there with you, what does it look like? I want to know everything there is to know about your favorite place in the world and that's all I want you to think about."

Eliana instinctively clasped her hands around Anastasia's neck. "Well it's in the forest. There's lots of tall, green trees and the sky is the bluest I've ever seen."

"That's good," whispered Anastasia, standing up slowly, "Tell me more."

"There's this little clearing where we pitch our tent and the sun shines right down into it, warming it just for us."

Stasia took a few casual steps forward, bringing them closer to the flames. She could see a fragile pathway that would take them to the front door and the stairs down out of the cottage. It was a long shot, but it was their only chance. She felt Eliana's grip around her neck tighten.

"Who else is there with you Eliana?"

"My mother, my real mother and my real father. My baby sisters and my older brother. We're on a family trip, just like every year."

Stasia froze for a moment at her words.

 _Her_ real _mother?_

The flames that were practically licking her feet reminded Anastasia that she was on a time limit. She took a deep breath and began navigating the unsteady trail through the cottage. She set her foot on one spot and felt it start to give way. Panicking a bit, Stasia jumped back and watched the wooden floorboards fall to the ground. Eliana flinched at the sudden movement and her shaking increased, causing Anastasia's whole body to vibrate.

"Hey, why are you shaking? You're in your favorite place in the whole world, remember? Tell me what sorts of things you do there."

Anastasia stepped further, testing each place now before she put her weight on it. The flames were all around her, causing her vision to tint orange. Sweat was running down her face and adrenaline was coursing through her veins and all she could focus on was where her next step would be.

"In the morning we go hiking. Sometimes we get up while it's still dark and we hike out to a cliff and watch the sunrise. Daddy has to carry little Alexa and Mommy and Bradley take turns carrying Lissa. Then we go out on our boat and some days we fish but other days Daddy pulls me and Bradley on the intertube. Bradley likes to go fast but I think that that's scary so Daddy goes slower for me. Then we go back to the clearing and Alexa and Lissa and I look at the different plants all around and sometimes Mommy lets me climb a tree. Daddy makes a fire and we roast hot dogs. Then, after we eat dinner, Mommy gets out the marshmallows and Bradley helps me make a s'more. On clear nights, we put our sleeping bags around the fire and we look up at the stars until we go to sleep."

By the time Eliana had finished her account of how her family would spend a day in the clearing, Anastasia had navigated her way out to the sitting room, which was rapidly becoming her biggest challenge. The furniture was burning and the floor was the least intact of the entire cottage. Stasia's arms ached from holding up Eliana, but there was no way she would give up now, not when she was this close. She began inching forward again, making sure to keep Eliana's mind on anything except the fire.

"Did you see any animals while you were in the clearing Eliana?"

"One year we brought our puppy with us. She was a beagle and her ears were so soft. I would spend such a long time just petting her ears. Her name was Lucy and she was so friendly. She was very gentle with Alexa and Lissa. She liked to run through the trees around the clearing."

"She sounds like a very wonderful dog." Anastasia crept forward another inch. They were about five feet from the door.

_We can make it._

Anastasia tapped her foot lightly against the next section of wood and pulled back quickly as it gave way. She watched in horror as the entire section between the two of them and the door crumbled and fell down to the ground, leaving only empty space where Stasia needed to step. She looked behind her and saw only flame; no other way out. Looking back at the hole in front of her, Stasia judged the distance.

_I can do it. I have to do it._

"Eliana," she said softly, "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," whispered Eliana without a moment's hesitation.

"Okay then I want you to take a deep breath with me. On three okay? One…two…three…breathe in."

Anastasia took the deepest breath that she could, stepped back a few steps and ran forward, gathering as much speed as she could in the limited space,

And then she jumped.

* * *

Clint was pacing back and forth between the door and Natalia's bed. Natasha was tense, but motionless, sitting at the young Russian's bedside. It had been over a week since they got back, over a week since Anastasia left, and over a week since they heard Natalia speak. They were restless and worried out of their minds. The silence in the room was deafening, but neither of them was sure what to say.

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, Natalia twitched.

Natasha's head snapped up and Clint was at her side in a flash. The girl on the bed stirred, but not in the way of someone just waking up. She tossed violently to the side, a sharp contrast to the immobile state she had been in for ages. Her legs kicked out and her hands clenched into fists.

"She's fighting someone," muttered Natasha. They both watched, wanting to help her, but at the same time completely incapable of moving from her side. Natalia's head lolled from side to side and finally she cried out.

"Stasia…Stasia! No, Stasia, don't you dare, get out of there right now!"

Clint froze and looked at Natasha for barely half a second before he was out the door, tearing down the hallway to Coulson's office. With murder in his eyes he ripped open the door and saw Coulson with a phone pressed to his ear.

"Tell me she is okay,  _right now,_  or I swear I will burn this building to the ground."

Coulson held up a hand, completely ignoring the blistering rage that was causing Clint to shake from head to toe. "Camilla? What the hell is going on there?"

Coulson's breath hitched a little as Camilla gave him a rundown of the current situation.

"She did  _what_?"

Clint stepped threateningly toward his handler, anger clouding all judgment. Coulson fixed him with an icy glare. "Let me figure out what's happening before you kill me, Barton."

He pressed the phone back to his ear. "You have to get her out, Camilla."

A pause. "I don't care what she said,  _get her out._ I'm leaving this line open. You tell me the second you have her with you again."

Coulson dropped the phone onto the desk and looked up at Clint.

"Someone set fire to their house. Everyone is fine…except Anastasia. Apparently there was another person in the house, a little girl that she had befriended, and the girl is afraid of fire. Anastasia is in the house with her still, talking her into coming out."

Clint's breath came in heaves, hissing out through his nostrils.

"You need to go back to Natalia, Clint." Coulson met the agent's fierce gaze with a cool stare. "She'll know before any of us that Anastasia is okay. So get out of here."

Clint's nose twitched, but he didn't say a word before turning on his heel and running back to his partner and the bedside they had been at for over a week.

* * *

Anastasia said a prayer to a god she wasn't sure she believed in as the two of them flew across the open space with nothing to catch them if they fell. She clutched Eliana so tight that she was probably cutting off circulation somewhere, but she really didn't care. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and she was almost certain that this was it, they were done for.

But then her shoulder collided with the deck that was just outside the door.

Shock radiated through Stasia. Finally she registered that they were out of the house and she could hear voices from below calling her name. She scrambled to her feet, Eliana still wrapped in her arms, and fled the remains of the burning building, running down the stairs. Anastasia flew over to where her team was standing and Camilla wrapped her arms around the two girls, holding them close. When she released them, Dylan and Ethan looked Anastasia up and down. Once he had determined that she was perfectly okay, if a little shaken up, Dylan glared at the Russian and drew back his fist. Anastasia braced herself as he let his punch fly and connect with her jaw. She winced slightly at the force of anger behind the punch.

"I suppose I deserved that, didn't I?"

"Hell yes you did," Dylan scowled at her with menace in his eyes, "How could you do that to me-I mean, how could you do that to us?"

Stasia shook her head a little; she was coming to realize how different hers and Talia's training was under Barton and Romanoff than what the rest of the S.H.I.E.L.D. recruits got.

"It was the right thing to do."

"Coulson?" Anastasia turned to look at Camilla, who had one hand pressed to her comm. "We've got her."

Anastasia cringed a bit at the lecture she was sure to get from Coulson, and probably from Barton and Romanoff too.

_I'm going to have some serious explaining to do._

"Hannah?" A tiny voice spoke over the din of the still raging fire. Anastasia looked down at the girl in her arms, sweat and soot streaked across her face.

"Yes Eliana?"

"Can I open my eyes now?"

Anastasia smiled and felt the fear and tension that she had been holding in her muscles completely disappear.

"Yes you can sweetheart. You can open up your eyes. It's all over now."


	14. Happy Endings Happen

**Chapter 14: Happy Endings Happen**

"…Completely, utterly, inexplicably irresponsible and incredibly dangerous!" Anastasia shrunk back in her chair as Coulson glared daggers at her. "I don't know what you were thinking Anastasia. You could've died; we could've lost you. Did you stop to think about what that would do to us? To Barton and Romanoff? To Natalia?"

"No sir." Anastasia knew that she technically deserved this lecture, but really, what did they want her to do, leave a fourteen year old girl to die in a burning building?

"I don't know what Barton and Romanoff have been teaching you, but I have a pretty good idea. You probably already figured out that the way that they run things is not standard S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol." Coulson sighed. "But I'm sure that you don't care about that." He shook his head. "Just know that it would more than tear us apart to lose you."

Anastasia nodded compliantly.

"Alright, now we need you to go and talk to the girl that you brought in."

"Me?" Anastasia was a little surprised. She had assumed they would bring in a S.H.I.E.L.D. psychiatrist or something to talk to Eliana.

"She won't say a word to anyone," explained Coulson.

"Oh." Anastasia hesitated a moment. "Has anyone told her that…y'know…"

"That you aren't actually Hannah Morgan? No." Coulson shook his head. "You'll have to explain that bit to her."

Stasia frowned bit and stood up. "Okay. Where is she?"

"B12," Coulson told her, "But there's something else you have to do first."

"What?"

"Talk to your SO, of course."

Anastasia winced and swallowed. "Right. And how much trouble am I in, exactly?"

"I don't think there's a nice way to say that he's probably going to kill you."

"Right." Stasia headed for the door. "Nice knowing you, Coulson."

Coulson just shook his head. "I'll see you at debrief, Stasia."

* * *

Stasia stopped right outside the door to Natalia's room. She knew that Clint and Natasha were still inside with her sister and she wanted to savor this last little moment of peace before they tore into her. Finally, she couldn't take the anticipation any longer. She grasped the doorknob and turned it, swinging the door open. Without taking her eyes off the door, Stasia stepped inside the room. Making her movements very deliberate, she shut the door and turned to face Clint and Natasha. Natasha was watching her with a deceptively stoic look on her face. Clint was staring at Anastasia, looking very conflicted. She could see the anger and concern in his eyes, but there was also worry and relief. Stasia took a little step forward, not entirely sure how he was going to react.

"Clint-"

He cut off whatever she had been going to say by closing the distance between them and enveloping her in a hug. Stasia wrapped her arms around him in response and breathed in the smell of pine and char that followed her SO everywhere.

To Anastasia, it smelled like home.

They stayed like that for a few moments, neither of them moving, Clint because he needed to reassure himself that she was truly here, Stasia because she didn't want to upset Clint. He pressed his face down into her hair and finally pulled back, keeping his hands on her shoulders so that she wouldn't step away.

"Do you understand what you did to me?" whispered Clint, eyes imploring Stasia. She shook her head, not quite prepared for the magnitude of emotion that she was drowning in. A lump rose in her throat, but Stasia forced it back down.

"You could have been gone, Anastasia." Clint took a deep breath and let his hands drop from Stasia's shoulders. "I could have lost you.  _We_  could have lost you."

"I'm right here Clint," Stasia reminded him, feeling a strange need to comfort him. Barton's confident and cheeky outer shell had cracked and it scared Anastasia that she had the power to do that.

"I know," he whispered. Stasia turned from him, unable to face his suffering eyes any longer, to where Natasha was watching the exchange. As Stasia approached, Natasha stood so that the younger girl could have the chair at her sister's bedside. Stasia nodded her wordless thanks and took the seat. Natasha stood right behind her and, after hesitating for a few seconds, she began to gently comb her fingers through Anastasia's hair. Stasia smiled softly at the gesture, understanding that it was Natasha's way of saying the same thing as Barton. Looking down at Natalia, Stasia pressed her lips together. It was time to do something about this.

"Alright Talia," she murmured, "No more hiding. Time to face the world." She took her sister's hand in her own and closed her eyes.

_Natalia._

_I know you can hear me._

_Come back to us._

_It's time to stop running._

_Please don't leave me alone. I need you back._

_Come home, Natalia._

_Please._

Clint watched his trainee, frowning a little bit. He opened his mouth to ask what she was doing, but Natasha caught his eye and shook her head. He sent her a silent question with his eyes.

"She won't tell you. She wouldn't tell me. Something about a promise to Natalia," whispered Natasha. Clint pursed his lips in frustration. He didn't do well with secrets. Suddenly, Stasia opened her eyes. She took a fraction of a second to refocus and adjust to the world again. Clint took half a step forward, intending to question Stasia and to hell with her promises, when out of nowhere, Natalia inhaled sharply. Natasha's head whipped around and she and Clint both gasped when they saw Natalia gently shifting her head. Stasia kept a constant grip on Talia's hand with one of her own and gently brushed back a few stray hairs with the other. Clint came to stand by Natasha, behind Anastasia. The three of them watched with bated breath, just waiting. Finally, Natalia's eyelids fluttered, revealing a pair of emerald eyes that were once again alert and focused.

"Stasia?"

Anastasia squeezed her sister's hand. "I'm right here, Talia."

Natalia turned her head so that she could see her sister. A tiny sigh escaped each of them and Stasia leaned down to wrap her arms around Natalia. She pulled back and Natalia pushed herself up into a sitting position, raising a hand to her temple as the blood rushed from her head.

"Ow. Headache."

After a moment of massaging her scalp, Natalia focused on the people behind Anastasia. Barton smiled at her.

"Welcome back, Natalia."

Natasha was simply staring, not quite prepared for what she was feeling now. Actually, she wasn't really prepared for feeling at all. Anastasia dropped Natalia's hand and stood up.

"I've got to dash; Coulson wants me to do something and then I have debrief." She gave Natalia a quick and gentle hug. "I'll be back soon. And until then," Stasia glanced at Natasha and Clint, "Well, you're certainly in good hands." With that, Anastasia was out the door. Natasha took the seat that Stasia had just vacated and looked searchingly at Natalia. Talia sat still under her mentor's scrutiny, waiting for her to speak. Finally, Natasha looked her dead on in the eye.

"You scared me," she stated, eliciting looks of shock from both her trainee and her partner, because  _nothing_  scares the Black Widow. "I thought…I don't really know. But afterwards, here, I could only think of every worst-case scenario." Natasha looked down for a second. "I could only think of how much it would hurt everyone if we lost you." She looked back up at Natalia. "And how much it would hurt me."

Tears pricked Natalia's eyes. She had never known how much of an effect she was having on the two spies in front of her. It was such a foreign feeling, that someone other than Anastasia would care if she was gone. Unable to form coherent words, Natalia leaned forward and awkwardly wrapped her arms around Natasha. The elder Russian stiffened at first. But the she relaxed a bit and sort of put her arms around Natalia. She let herself hold and be held by the younger girl, let go of her barriers for this one moment in time. Clint watched, mostly amazed at the way that Natalia had managed to worm her way past all of Natasha's walls in such a short amount of time. She had softened the former Russian spy in a way that no other person at S.H.I.E.L.D. could. Clint shook his head a bit.

_It's a miracle._

* * *

Anastasia shut the door behind her and let out a sigh of relief. She was home, Natalia was awake, and she had most of the awkward reunions out of the way.

_Except Eliana, of course._

Stasia winced a little, wondering how she was going to explain everything to the younger girl.

_She's fourteen. She can take it._

She turned a corner and entered the B hallway. Pausing outside B12, Anastasia took a deep breath and mentally prepared herself. Then she turned the doorknob and entered the room. It was set up as a small bedroom, with a little twin-size bed and a lamp. A small closet was off to the right and Eliana was curled up on the bed. At first, Anastasia thought that she might be sleeping, but at the sound of the door opening, Eliana rolled over to see who was coming in this time.

"Hannah?"

"Hello Eliana." Anastasia smiled softly and went over to sit on the edge of the bed. Eliana sat up and studied Anastasia.

"That's not my name," she stated frankly. Anastasia looked at her, surprised.

_And here I was, thinking I was the only one who had any explaining to do._

"Okay. What's your real name then?"

"Jeralyn Eclaps," she said in a whoosh, as if she had waited for the longest time to say those words again.

_Well, she probably has._

Anastasia saw some tears forming in Jeralyn's eyes and she scooted over and wrapped her arms around the younger girl. Jeralyn pressed her face into Anastasia's shoulder and her small frame shook with her tears. Stasia rubbed a hand up and down her back comfortingly.

"Shhh…it's okay hon…it's all over now."

Jeralyn pulled back after a few minutes and wiped at her eyes. "Where are we Hannah?"

Anastasia took a deep breath and steeled her nerves. "We are at a place called S.H.I.E.L.D. They're sort of like the police. But…" Anastasia hesitated, looked at the trust in Jeralyn's face, and just went for it. "…my name isn't Hannah. In fact, Hannah Morgan, she doesn't actually exist."

Jeralyn looked thoroughly confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm not just visiting S.H.I.E.L.D." Anastasia kept shaky eye contact with Jeralyn, waiting for the betrayed look she was sure she would find soon, "I work here. S.H.I.E.L.D. sent me and the rest of the people you met to investigate the Drakes. Those people aren't even my real family."

Shock radiated off of Jeralyn in waves. She looked away, then back at Anastasia. There was just a tiny hint of hurt in her eyes and she pulled out of Stasia's embrace, scooting away from her to the other end of the bed. "So it was all an act then?"

Stasia saw the fear and the loneliness that were rooted in the younger girl's soul and she felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. "Of course not. Me being nice, being your friend, that was real. I promise, with all my heart, Jeralyn. I just have a different name." Stasia put as much sincerity into the words as she could muster; did her best to make Jeralyn believe and she held her breath, watching closely for the storm to break. Jeralyn was holding herself stiffly, looking at the person who had been her one friend, who had actually just been another one of the liars. Staring at not-Hannah's face, Jeralyn bit her lip. The stress and the apology and the worry that she could read in the lines of the older girl's face  _seemed_  real, but then again, so had Hannah Morgan. Jeralyn turned her face away and she felt not-Hannah sag on the bed next to her, thinking that the younger girl was giving up. Pausing, Jeralyn felt a painful jab in her heart, reminding her of all that she had lost and that she just couldn't afford to lose anything more. Although she might be losing a good friend in Hannah Morgan, perhaps this other girl could be a great friend. Jeralyn forced her muscles to relax and she looked back at her friend, letting her see her decision written across her face. Not-Hannah broke into a smile when she saw Jeralyn's eyes return to their lighter, happier state and she wrapped her arms around the young orange-haired girl. Jeralyn leaned into the embrace but turned her face upward so that she could ask a very obvious question.

"So what  _is_  your name?"

Anastasia gave a little chuckle. "It's Anastasia, sweetheart."

"That's a pretty name." Jeralyn laid her head against Stasia's shoulder. "Am I going to be allowed to stay here, Anastasia?"

Stasia hesitated, considering a lie to soften the blow, but deciding against it. "I'm not sure. We'll have to talk to some of the people in charge. But first, there's something you need to explain to me."

"My family," whispered Jeralyn. Anastasia nodded.

"Do you know what happened?" Jeralyn slowly bobbed her head up and down.

"It wasn't very long ago. Several months, a year maybe. We were in our house and it was nighttime, so we were all sleeping. All of our bedrooms were on the third floor." Jeralyn took a breath and swallowed. "It was 2:37; I remember because my clock was the first thing I saw when the smoke alarm woke me up."

Understanding washed over Anastasia. "Your house caught fire?"

Jeralyn shook her head. "No. Someone  _set_  our house on fire. I ran into my parent's room, but my mom just shouted at me to get myself out and to run as far as I could. The only other thing she did was throw something at me." Jeralyn had to stop speaking then, had to force the tears back from her eyes and the lump down in her throat. Stasia gently rubbed her back, giving her time to work through the story.

"It was a chain. I recognized it because Mom always wore it, never took it off, not even for showers or swimming." Jeralyn reached under the collar of her shirt and lifted out a fine gold chain that had a locket hanging on the end of it. Anastasia hesitated, waiting for an approving nod from Jeralyn before reaching for the locket. It was intricately carved with swirls and lines and, although she didn't recognize it, Stasia could've sword it was an emblem for something. She let the locket fall through her fingers. Jeralyn stroked it absentmindedly, staring at its delicate design.

"So, you ran out of the house…" prompted Anastasia gently.

"I ran out the back door, toward the woods, but right before I reached the trees someone grabbed me." Jeralyn squeezed her eyes shut, wincing at the painful memory. "I screamed, but with the fire, no one could hear me. He held me down and I had to watch as my house burned to the ground. I didn't see anyone else run out and I guess that was the point." Jeralyn opened her eyes again. "To make me understand that there was no point in running away because I had nothing to come back to. The Drakes forced me to live with them, to answer to a different name, all with the purpose of keeping up their charade. They tried, once, to get me into their business, but….I wouldn't do it." She took a deep breath as tears pricked her eyes once more. "I never heard anything about my family again. I don't know if they're alive, or dead. They could be anywhere and I'll probably never find them again." Jeralyn's voice broke on the last word and Anastasia pulled her close in a hug, heart breaking for the young girl who had suffered so much in such a short time.

"It's going to be okay now Jeralyn." Stasia stroked Jeralyn's hair soothingly. "I'll make sure someone takes very good care of you, I promise."

Jeralyn pulled her tear-streaked face back and looked up at Anastasia. "Thank you," she whispered. Stasia pulled her arms from around Jeralyn's shoulders and gripped her small hands tightly.

"I have to go and do a couple things now, but I will come back as soon as I can, okay?"

Jeralyn nodded and Stasia pulled her in for one more hug before she stood up. "Goodbye, Jeralyn."

A pair of soft blue eyes watched her go. "Bye, Anastasia."

* * *

Anastasia slipped into the debrief room, completely drained emotionally. She dropped into the empty chair next to Dylan. The other four members of the mission team looked at her, mildly concerned.

"How are you, Anastasia?" Camilla smiled comfortingly at Stasia. The two had grown rather close as the only two females on the mission.

"Oh, I'm fine," Stasia assured them, "I've just had a…rough morning."

"Is it your sister?" Dylan's face pinched with concern. Stasia jerked her head to the side non-committedly.

"Yes and no. I started the morning with a lecture from Coulson about safety on missions and then I had to talk to my SO. He was….not happy, to say the least."

"You're with Barton, right?" asked Troy. Stasia nodded and Troy grimaced.

"I'll bet he wasn't happy. I've seen him when his partner is late coming back from a mission or when she ends up in medical. He goes absolutely ballistic."

"Yeah, he was pretty worried. But it's sort of nice; to know someone really cares enough to worry." Stasia smiled. "And Natalia, well, she's finally awake."

"Oh that's wonderful!" exclaimed Camilla. Ethan and Troy grinned and Dylan casually nudged Stasia's arm.

"You'll have to introduce us to her at some point;" he whispered conspiratorially, "Ethan needs to have eyes for someone."

Stasia playfully smacked Dylan's shoulder and laughed. "Very funny, Dylan. I'm sure that Ethan is perfectly capable of catching his own fish."

Dylan cast a pretend doubtful glance at his friend and Ethan socked him lightly on the other shoulder. Stasia snorted and that was how Coulson found them when he walked in to start the mission debrief. The three kids straightened up immediately, serious looks returning to their faces. Coulson focused on Anastasia first.

"Did you talk to the girl?" Stasia nodded.

"Her real name is Jeralyn Eclaps. Her family status is unknown; her house burned down several months ago in a fire set by the Drakes. Jeralyn doesn't know what happened to her family because the Drakes kidnapped her to help their little family charade along. She previously had two younger sisters, a younger brother, and her parents, of course."

Coulson nodded, satisfied. "We'll add that to the list of things that we're charging the Drakes with." He noted the surprise on all five agent's faces. "Yes, we have them in custody. We sent a team in to stop their flight before they could run. They're currently in holding, awaiting trial."

Satisfaction coursed through Anastasia's veins. It felt good to know that they had done something good, that something she had done had made a difference, made the world a little better, a little safer.

"I think that's about it for the group," said Coulson, "Anastasia, I need to have a word with you."

Stasia's brow crinkled in confusion, but she shrugged and waited while the rest of the team filed out of the room.

"It's about the girl," Coulson told her. Anastasia's heart sank right down through her stomach to the floor.

"She can't stay, can she?" Coulson shook his head.

"There's no space for her here at S.H.I.E.L.D. and I only have so much room in my apartment. I'm so sorry Anastasia, but it's looking like the only option left is foster care."

"Can we at least wait until we try and locate her family?" pleaded Stasia. She gave Coulson the best imitation she could manage of Barton's puppy dog face, which was pretty dang close. Coulson hesitated, and then melted at the begging look in her big green eyes. He sighed and nodded.

"Okay. But if we can't find any of them within two weeks, she goes into foster care. Got it?"

Anastasia nodded as she stood up. She flung her arms around Coulson in thanks, surprising the older handler. "Thanks, Coulson." And she was out the door before Coulson could properly react. He grinned a little and shook his head, gathering up his debrief materials and heading out the door.

* * *

"Hey Anastasia!" Stasia whipped around at the sound of her name and she saw Dylan jogging slightly to catch up to her. She waited until he reached her before she continued her trek in the direction of Natalia's room.

"Hey Dylan, what's up?"

"I was just looking for you, actually." A blush rose on his neck and he looked away, his shyness having returned in full force with the end of their mission. Stasia raised an eyebrow, a little bit surprised.

"Oh? And why is that?"

"I was thinking…I mean, I was wondering if…maybe you wanted to catch a movie later?" He looked away from her and back at her, eyes darting around nervously and he brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. Anastasia stopped walking for a moment, wondering if she had heard correctly.

_Did he just…ask me on a date?_

Dylan was alternating between watching her reaction anxiously and staring at his feet. Anastasia recovered her shock after a second and resumed her walking. She smiled slightly at Dylan's nervous antics.

_I wonder how long he took to work up to asking me?_

"I'd love to," she told him, putting a rest to his apprehensive actions. "But can we make it tomorrow? I'm still sorta busy tonight."

"Yeah, yeah, sure, of course." The relief was audible in Dylan's tone and it was clear that he would go along with whatever Stasia said.

"Great. Do you have a movie in mind or…" Anastasia let the end of her question hang in the air. Dylan shook his head and kind of shrugged.

"Not really. You can pick one if you want, just text me the time and stuff."

"Alright. Sounds good." Anastasia had stopped walking because they had reached Natalia's door. Dylan shuffled his feet a little awkwardly and Stasia couldn't help but laugh a little. Dylan smiled and a deep red blush rose up his neck and behind his ears again.

"See you later, Dylan." Stasia parted from her friend and entered her sister's room, concealing her excited grin to avoid questions from her SO.

_Lord knows what Romanoff would do to Dylan; let alone what Barton would do. That poor boy doesn't know what he's getting himself into._

* * *

The sun rose the next morning to find Anastasia and Barton alone in the training room, doing target practice. Stasia loaded an arrow while Clint walked around her, analyzing her form. Humming softly to herself, Anastasia drew her bow back, anchoring well against her face. Her SO's sharp eyes darted over her, taking careful note of her form. He gently reached up and tapped her elbow.

"Get that back behind your head," Clint ordered. Stasia rotated her elbow back so that it was in line with the back of her head and waited for the go ahead to shoot. Barton raised an eyebrow when she didn't make any kind of snappy retort the way she normally did. He nodded and Stasia let the arrow fly, landing it dead in the bulls-eye of her 60 yard target. Barton's eyes swept over her again as she watched the path of the arrow and this time he picked up on the slight flush of her cheeks, the sparkling in her eyes, the little smile that danced across her lips, and the way that she just kept humming under her breath.

_What isn't she telling me?_

Stasia reached for another arrow but Barton stopped her, drawing her attention.

"What are you so happy about this morning?"

Anastasia shrugged. "No reason. Aren't I just allowed to be in a good mood?"

"No." Barton scrutinized her, narrowing his eyes. "There has to be a reason."

"I know what it is!" Natalia cried out in a sing-songy voice as she pranced into the training room. Clint was momentarily put off his task as he looked behind Natalia, expecting to see his partner walking in. Natalia shook her head, tsking at the older agent.

"She's not there, Barton."

"Well, where is she then?"

"She's up in the rafters," replied Anastasia, nocking another arrow. "She's been there for the past half an hour, waiting to see if you'd notice."

Barton's head jerked upward and finally he saw the redhead, crouched on the ceiling beams. "Tasha!"

Natasha snorted and swung down to the floor. "Some spy you are Barton."

Clint rolled his eyes but didn't retaliate. Instead he resumed his eagle eye stare at his trainee. Anastasia pointedly ignored him, calmly shooting another arrow.

"Tell me, Stasia, or I'll find out from Natalia," he threatened.

"There's nothing to tell." Anastasia didn't meet his eyes.

"Natalia?" Clint and Stasia both looked at the other young girl, both of them daring her to cross them. A mischievous glint glimmered in Talia's eye and Stasia swore under her breath in Russian. Before her sister could utter a word, Stasia had shot off and was scrambling up the climbing ropes. She was halfway up before Natalia managed to get the truth out.

"Stasia's got a daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate," sang Natalia in that same sing-songy voice, smirking at the retreating form of her sister. Barton's eyes bugged a little bit and Natasha froze where she was standing. Both of them whipped around to look at the teen who was now sitting on the highest ceiling beam, watching the two mentors anxiously. The two senior agents folded their arms and raised their eyebrows at Anastasia. She cringed a little bit under the weight of their stares.

_Thanks a lot Natalia,_  she thought at her sister. Natalia smirked from behind Barton and Romanoff.

_My pleasure, Anastasia._

"Anastasia?" Barton's tone was questioning and he had a very protective look in his eyes.

"Yes, Barton?"

"Don't play dumb, Stasia." Barton rolled his eyes. "And don't make me come up there and get you. Come back down here"

Anastasia didn't move and she shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere. You can talk to me from down there."

Faster than any of them could blink, Natasha was up in the beams. She gently shoved Anastasia, sending the younger girl falling toward the ground. Stasia took a moment to recover from that shock, but she quickly went into a tuck and rolled when she hit the ground. She came to a stop and a shadow fell over her face. Barton's face stared down at her.

"Want to try that again?" Stasia raised her hands defensively.

"Fine, fine. Yes, I have a date."

Clint reached down and helped her to her feet and Natasha returned to stand in front of him. Anastasia didn't say another word; the fierce protectiveness she could see in both of their faces was enough to make her want to keep them away from Dylan. She crossed her own arms and looked at them a little defensively.

"What? Am I not allowed to go on a date?"

"Not unless we meet the boy," growled Clint. Natasha nodded her assent and Stasia groaned.

"No  _way_  am I letting either of you near him. I don't need you to scare my date to death before I even get a chance to know him better."

Barton looked a tiny bit offended. "I wouldn't scare him more than is necessary…a certain level of fear is healthy."

"I can't make that promise." There was a touch of darkness in Natasha's voice, telling Anastasia that she should under no circumstances put shy Dylan in the same room as Romanoff. She set her feet and shoulders determinedly and pressed her lips together.

"Absolutely not."

"I'm still your SO," said Barton, "I will keep you in training all night if you don't let us meet this boy."

Anastasia moved her jaw angrily, knowing that there wasn't really a way around that edict….except…

"I'll tell Coulson," she retaliated. Natasha and Clint both snorted.

"That really won't help you," said Natasha, smirking. Natalia was dissolving in silent laughter behind the two senior agents. Stasia sent a pointed glare at her. There really didn't seem to be a way out of this.

"Fine. But if you scare him, I swear, I will never speak to either of you again." She grabbed her bow off the rack and slung it over her shoulder before storming out of the training room, Natalia close on her tail. Barton and Romanoff shared a glance.

"No promises," muttered Natasha.

 


	15. All The Time

**Chapter 15: All The Time**

Anastasia stormed down the hallway toward her room, residual anger painting a scowl across her face.

"Stasia!"

Natalia tried to run after her sister, but her muscles were still weak from having just woken up. She settled for walking as fast as she could manage. Stasia glanced over her shoulder and her heart softened at the sight of Natalia half-trotting half-walking toward her. She reluctantly slowed her own pace and allowed her sister to catch up with her.

"Look, I'm sorry about that." Natalia jerked her head toward the training room. Anastasia rolled her eyes.

"No you aren't. You thought it was hilarious."

"Well…maybe a little." Talia grinned sheepishly. "But I'm not happy that it made you angry."

Stasia smiled and pulled out her key card. "It's okay." She swiped the card to unlock her door. "They would have figured it out eventually." Stepping inside the door frame, Anastasia glanced over her shoulder. "You gonna come help me get ready?"

Natalia grinned wickedly. "Of course, unless your fashion sense has improved drastically under Barton's watch."

Sending a playful kick at Natalia's shins, Stasia held the door for her sister and then let it fall shut. With loving care she folded up her bow and tucked it into its case. She walked over and set her thumb on a finger print scanner by a deceptively smooth patch of wall. The scanner beeped and there was a whirring noise. The wall by the scanner folded open to reveal a small compartment into which Stasia slid her bow case and quiver. She clicked the compartment shut and smirked at Natalia's almost envious look. Talia rolled her eyes.

"I'm gonna go shower," said Anastasia. "Try not to mess the room up, okay?"

Natalia snorted; the room was already, in her opinion anyway, messy. There were dirty clothes scattered around, discarded wherever they had been taken off. Paper was strewn across the desk and the bedspread was mostly on the floor. Spare fletchings and extra tubes of arrow lube littered one corner of the room that was clearly reserved for bow-care. The first and third drawers of the dresser were open with clothes hanging out of them and the clothes in the closet were just barely on their hangers. The occasional piece of trash was visible amid the clutter. Natalia, who was a bit of a neat-freak, grimaced at the state of her sister's room. As soon as Anastasia disappeared into the bathroom, Natalia went to work. It was almost a subconscious habit to pick up after Anastasia, one she had developed over the years. She had taken care of the dirty clothes, picked up the trash, and made the bed when there was a soft tapping on the door. Cautiously, Natalia crept over and opened the door a crack. She was surprised to see Natasha standing there, holding a medium-sized black bag.

"Is she in there?" asked Natasha, a scheming glint in her eye. Talia checked over her shoulder; the water was still running in the bathroom.

"She's in the shower," she told her SO, swinging the door open a little wider to allow Natasha admittance to the room. The redhead slipped into the room without a sound and set her bag down on the fresh made bed. She cast a glance around the still untidy room and rolled her eyes before immediately heading over to the closet and straightening the clothes on their hangers. Natalia grinned and went to work on the dresser drawers. By the time the water shut off in the shower, Natasha and Natalia had taken care of the clothes and the desk. Natalia let Natasha take care of the mess of archery supplies, which she did with surprising speed and familiarity.

_Probably from picking up after Barton,_ mused Natalia.

Anastasia emerged from the bathroom in spandex and a sports bra, her blonde hair turned a light brown color by the water and hanging in waves around her face. She groaned when she saw the state of her room.

"I was in there for fifteen minutes; how did you manage to undo three weeks of messiness?"

"It's a gift," said Natalia, smiling sweetly. "Also, I had help." She nodded toward Natasha and Anastasia followed the motion, eyes widening a touch when she saw the older Russian standing off to the side.

"Why are you here?" she asked curiously. Natasha smiled a little.

"I couldn't help but come; there's no way you can get ready with only Natalia's help."

"Depends on how you define 'get ready'," muttered Anastasia. She sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed and surrendered herself to the other two girls. "What are we doing first?"

"Natalia, you start on her hair." Natasha grinned mischievously. "I'm going to find you something to wear."

Stasia groaned a little again and dropped her head into her hands. Grudgingly, she allowed Talia to pull her to her feet and drag her back into the bathroom.

It was going to be a long couple of hours.

.

.

.

Three hours later and a bit of progress had been made. Natalia had dried and straightened Anastasia's hair and now they were both sitting on the bed while the former debated whether or not to comb Stasia's hair into a braid. Stasia was watching Natasha, who was  _still_  pawing through her clothes, trying to find something that she deemed acceptable. Tasha grumbled a little under her breath and the twins caught the occasional Russian curse as she flipped through Anastasia's wardrobe.

"We  _need_  to take you shopping sometime soon," muttered Natasha. Anastasia grimaced but let the comment go; she would cross that bridge when she came to it. Natalia decided that she should, in fact, put Stasia's hair back and she began running a brush through her sister's smooth hair. Natasha finally pulled a couple dresses out of the closet. The first was hi-lo style and just on the dark side of teal. It was a light, summery fabric with a medium-rough texture. The seam drew the fabric in right under the bust and the rest of the fabric simply fell in layers, making it so that the dress blew in the wind. Thin spaghetti straps held it to the hanger. The second dress was a little dressier in a shade of dark blue-violet. It was strapless and made of smooth, silky material. The bust was semi-structured and the skirt fell in a nice A-line. Anastasia raised her eyebrows as Natasha hooked the dresses on the edge of the dresser.

"I'm not wearing a dress, Natasha. We're going to the movies, not to a formal event."

"I see no part of that description that would prevent you from wearing a dress," retorted Natasha, making no move to put the dresses back. "Your deplorable lack of dressy attire on the other hand, that would certainly do the job."

Stasia rolled her eyes and started to shake her head, only to get slapped lightly on the arm.

"Don't move your head," ordered Natalia, "It'll mess up the braid."

Sighing, Anastasia returned her gaze to Natasha, who was thankfully looking now through Stasia's selection of pants and shorts. Stasia glanced at the clock and groaned internally.

"You two better not make me late," she muttered.

.

.

.

Another hour and a half passed. Natalia finally finished her braid, after starting over three times, and Natasha managed to narrow down her selection to two outfits without once consulting Anastasia.

"I'm beginning to feel unnecessary," grumbled Stasia. "Can I go and shoot while you two stay here and help me get ready?"

"Done!" proclaimed Natalia. Natasha turned and appraised the younger girl's handiwork. Two French braids ran down the sides of Anastasia's head and then joined into a fishtail down her back. Natasha nodded her approval and clapped her hands together.

"Alright." She grabbed the first of her two outfits, the teal dress, and pushed it Anastasia. "Into the bathroom," she ordered. Anastasia took the dress but didn't move from the bed.

"I said that I wasn't going to wear a dress."

Natasha folded her arms and gave Anastasia a  _look_. Natalia gently prodded her sister's shoulders.

"Go on Stasia," she said, "It won't hurt you to try it on."

Anastasia sighed but crumpled under the expectation of both Natalia and Natasha. She pushed herself off the bed and trudged off to the bathroom, snatching a regular bra on the way. The minute that the door clicked shut, Natasha whirled back to the closet and began sorting through Stasia's shoe selection.

"This is terrible," she muttered, scowling at the lack of options Stasia had left her with. Natalia nodded in sympathy.

"Mine is a little better," said the younger Russian, "But we never had a lot of money to spend on shoes and Stasia never wanted to go shopping."

Natasha shook her head. "Well, we're going to fix that.  _Soon._ "

.

.

.

Once Stasia had slipped the dress over her head, despite all of her reservations, she had to admit that Natasha knew what she was doing. The fabric clung in all the right places and the color flattered her skin and brought out her eyes. Anastasia was fingering the textured fabric and admiring the way that the skirt of the dress fell when she heard Natalia's impatient "Stasia!" from the other side of the door and she quickly slipped back out of the bathroom. Two pairs of sharp green eyes appraised her as soon as she stepped out. Natalia was smiling; she obviously liked the dress. Stasia turned slowly so that they could see all angles. Natasha eyed her critically until finally Anastasia stopped and looked at her expectantly.

"Well?"

Natasha graced her with a rare smile. "You're definitely wearing that."

"Do I even get a say in this?"

"No." Natasha's tone left no room for argument and Anastasia sighed.

"Can I just try on the pants and sweater?"

"No." As if to emphasize her point, Natasha took the pants and top and tossed them back into the dresser, causing Stasia to slump a little dejectedly.

"Don't slouch," advised Natalia. Anastasia stuck her tongue out at her sister but straightened her shoulders anyway.

"Well at least we're done," she muttered. Natalia and Natasha exchanged a conspiratorial look. Anastasia caught the tail end of it and her eyes widened in alarm.

"Don't tell me you two have thought of some other way to torture me."

"Oh please," Natasha snorted. "I could  _really_  torture you if you'd prefer."

"It has to be better than this," grumbled Stasia. For half a second, Natasha's face darkened, filled with memories of a haunted past and then it was gone, replaced with the not-quite-good-natured look the twins had come to associate with the older Russian. Natasha moved over next to the bed and picked up the black bag she had brought with her. She set it down next to the twins and began rummaging through it. As soon as Anastasia heard the tell-tale clinking of bottles a horrified look washed over her and she scooted away from Natasha.

"Absolutely not."

Natalia smirked behind Stasia's back. Natasha fixed the latter with a glare that left no room for debate.

"You aren't leaving this room unless you let me do it," she told Anastasia.

"I don't do make-up," stated Anastasia point-blank, a determined look setting itself in place on her face. Natasha matched it with a cool gaze of her own and crossed her arms.

"You do now."

Stasia adamantly shook her head. Natalia was doubled over in silent laughter at the spat between the other two. Both Natasha and Anastasia sent glares at her, which sobered her up plenty fast.

"You can't make me do it."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "I'm the Black Widow. I can make you do anything."

"Anything but this," said Stasia, moving toward the door.

"I'll get Barton in here to hold you down," threatened Natasha. Anastasia froze. If Natasha did that, there was no way that Clint would ever let Stasia live it down.

_Damn,_  cursed Anastasia,  _she is good._

Natasha smirked triumphantly and returned to sorting through her bag, knowing that she had won this battle. Anastasia trudged grudgingly back over to the bed and sat down, resigning herself to Natasha's ministrations.

"Don't worry; it's going to be subtle," promised Natasha.

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Stasia under her breath.

.

.

.

Twenty minutes later and Natasha was gently applying the finishing touches to Anastasia's make-up mask. The feel of something covering her skin was completely foreign to Anastasia and she had to constantly remind herself not to touch her face. The few times that she had started to lift a hand toward her cheek it had been swatted down by Natalia who was watching with avid interest, despite the fact that Anastasia knew that Natalia also had an aversion to make-up. Finally, Natasha stepped back and gave Stasia's face a once over.

"Done!" she proclaimed. Natalia darted over to the bathroom and snatched up a mirror. She danced back over and held it out to her SO. Natasha took it and paused before raising it up so Stasia could see her reflection. Anastasia gasped as she processed what she was seeing in the mirror. Her face was completely smooth; almost porcelain like. Her eyes were lined with a chocolate brown color and shaded with purple that started as a lilac by her tear ducts and faded into a plum color by the outer corners of her eyes. A dusting of coral blush clung to her cheek bones and a layer of peach lip gloss was smoothed over her lips. Her eye lashes had grown in prominence thanks to Natasha's medium-brown mascara and they framed her green eyes perfectly. Anastasia was surprised to find herself liking the way that she looked in the mirror. She looked up at Natasha who was watching her closely, gauging her reaction. When the older agent saw the gratitude in Stasia's eyes, she relaxed a fraction and dropped the mirror. She set about repacking her black bag, but Anastasia reached out and lightly touched her arm. Natasha looked up.

"Thank you." Sincerity dripped from Stasia's voice, as much as she could possible muster. Natasha sort of jerked her head to the side noncommittally, as if she wasn't entirely sure why she had done what she had. All of a sudden, Natalia appeared holding a pair of white flats and a simple silver link necklace. Anastasia slipped both on, relieved that they had finally reached the end of the torment. Natasha had her back to both of the girls so she didn't see Natalia pull Anastasia to her feet, grinning playfully. She didn't hear Natalia say to Stasia,

"Dance, Stasia!"

Talia swung her sister around in circles, the two of them dancing like little girls with too much energy. Anastasia let go after a few minutes of spinning, one hand going to her temple to help quell the dizziness while the other pressed against the wall for stability. Natalia, completely unaffected by the spinning, danced over to her SO and lightly tapped her shoulder. Natasha turned around and Natalia beamed at her, holding out her hands.

"Dance, Natasha!"

The innocence in Talia's face and the verbal command were like a cold knife to Natasha's heart. Natalia didn't know it, but she had just crossed a line that Natasha had been fighting ever since she escaped the control of the Red Room. Natasha froze at the words and all of a sudden she wasn't Natasha Romanoff, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, she was Natalia Alianovna Romanova, the Black Widow, and memories flashed across her eyes.

_Dance, Natalia!_ The only memory she had of a mother who had been taken, burned in a fire that destroyed her life.

_Dance, Natalia!_ The last words of one of her only friends in the Widow program, right before Natasha was forced to snap her neck.

_Dance, Natalia!_  The order of her Red Room handler, Ivan, to display her limberness and muscular coordination for the potential clients.

_Dance, Natalia!_ The slurred command of drunken Russian officers, the ones who trapped her and did unspeakable things to her, simply because they could.

A scar that Natasha thought had long ago healed tore open and she was still Natalia Alianovna Romanova as the pain coursed through her like her own personal living hell and Natalia Alianovna Romanova did exactly what she would normally do to someone who triggered her this badly, regardless of who it was.

Her arm moved of its own accord, drew back and flew forward, slapping Natalia hard across the cheek.

Natalia's smile turned to a shriek of pain and she stumbled back a few feet. Anastasia gasped and she ran to her sister, wrapping her arms around her.

Natalia Alianovna Romanova blinked and suddenly she was Natasha Romanoff again and she realized what she had done. She stepped toward the girls, reaching out with guilt and terrible regret swallowing her heart.

"Talia-"

But it wasn't Talia crouched down on the floor; it was Natalia Silivanov, the main hope of the Russian rebel cause, and she didn't see her mentor Natasha in front of her. Natalia's heart twisted as Natasha's face morphed into that of Natalia's mother and the feel of a bruise forming and a figure towering over her was all too familiar to Natalia. She felt her instincts kick in and she lapsed back into the training of her youth. As Natasha moved toward her, Natalia scrambled backward, hissing,

"Don't touch me, предатель."  _(traitor)_

Natasha recoiled as if she was the one who had been slapped. The look she had seen flash in her trainee's eyes was not that of her trainee, but was that of the girl who had spent her childhood in the care of Russian rebels. Then Natasha did what she did best in these situations; she grabbed her bag, cast a fleeting glance at the terrified twins, and fled the room.

.

.

.

The girls watched her go and they turned to each other. Natalia's cheek was already a bright red and tears were rolling down her cheeks. Anastasia pulled her sister close and rocked her back and forth gently, whispering comfort into her ear.

"Shhh…it's okay Talia…you're fine…I've got you…I'm right here."

Natalia looked up at Anastasia, who gently brushed away the tears that were still clinging to the former's cheeks.

"You should go," Natalia choked out. "You'll be late."

"I'm not leaving you," Anastasia soothingly stroked Natalia's hair, "You need me more than Dylan does right now."

"I don't want to ruin your date," insisted Natalia, sniffing back tears. "I'll be okay;  _go_."

Clearly, Natalia wasn't taking no for an answer. Anastasia sighed and cast her a worried look as she stood up. Gently, Stasia lifted her sister up and set her on the bed. She held up her phone so that Talia could see it.

"If you even  _think_  that you need me, you call. I don't care; I will come back in an instant."

Natalia nodded. "Of course. But I'll be fine. Go on and have fun; don't worry about me." Her voice caught a little on the last word but she determinately ignored it. Stasia pursed her lips and gave Talia one last loving hug before moving reluctantly out of the room.

* * *

Clint was sitting with the patience of a sniper on a low stone wall just inside the entrance to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. He was decked out in full mission gear, including his quiver, which was on his back, and his bow, which was lying in a deceptively harmless position across his lap. Every time the door swung open, Barton's head snapped up and he critically analyzed the person entering.

It was probably an unnerving experience for most of them.

The complaints about the unwanted observation eventually reached Coulson, who just sighed and put his head in his hands. Then he stood up and walked over to his office window. Sure enough, there was his favorite agent, looking moody and brooding as he suspiciously eyed a pair of junior agents who were coming in with some frozen yogurt. Coulson rolled his eyes and headed to the elevator, wondering what the hell had gotten into Barton this time.

.

.

.

"Barton!"

Clint's attention was drawn by the shout of his handler. He waited, calmly watching as Coulson approached.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for my trainee, sir."

"And what part of that involves scrutinizing everyone who comes through the door?"

Clint gritted his teeth. "It's the reason that I'm waiting for her, sir."

"Which is…?" Coulson stared expectantly at Clint, who just stared ahead, not responding. Coulson ran a hand over his receding hairline. What in God's name had he done to deserve this today?

"Well, where is Anastasia? And for that matter, where are Natasha and Natalia?"

"The last I knew, all three of them were in Anastasia's quarters."

"Then why can't you wait for her there?" said Coulson, exasperated.

"It would defeat the purpose, sir."

"Goddammit, Barton, just be straight with me for once! What exactly is going on here?"

Clint finally turned and met Coulson's gaze head on. The latter was taken aback by the protectiveness and slightly predatory gleam in the former's eyes.

"Stasia has a date, Phil," said Barton coolly. Coulson blinked, uncomprehending for a moment.

That was  _not_  what he had been expecting.

An unforeseen wave of paternal responsibility washed over Coulson. "Why is she going out on a date? She just got back from a mission; she's supposed to be recovering and helping her sister!"

Clint rolled his eyes. "Natasha will take care of Natalia, Phil. I'm here to see Stasia off."

"Oh." Coulson glanced at the revolving doors as someone spun through them again. "You haven't met the boy, have you?"

Barton's jaw clenched and he shook his head. Coulson grinned a little; on the inside anyway. On the outside, he was projecting the same front as Barton: protective, threatening, and the tiniest bit worried. Coulson's mind was already whirring, coming up with the worst case scenarios that could result from this.

Barton could go insane while Stasia was gone.

_But he's already insane._

Anastasia could get hurt and no one would be there to help her.

_But she's proven that she doesn't need help._

This boy could break the young girl's innocent heart.

_…_

Coulson had no counter argument for the last scenario and his heart clenched. The back of his throat went dry and he forced the thought out of his mind. He turned his eyes toward the dorms and caught sight of a familiar blonde figure making her way over to them. A nudge to Barton's arm brought the girl to his attention as well. Coulson and Barton watched with slight frowns on their faces; Barton's deepened when he realized that Anastasia was alone. She reached them and they both saw the anger, pain, betrayal, and worry that she hadn't quite managed to mask yet. Barton dropped his fierce older brother persona and traded it for sincere worry.

"Stasia? Where's Talia and Tash-"

"When you're done interrogating my date," Anastasia interrupted Barton, speaking in a clipped tone, "You need to go and have a little  _chat_  with your partner. And make sure that someone other than Agent Romanoff checks on Natalia."

Clint was shocked by the ice in Anastasia's voice. He had never heard it from her; from Natasha, all the time. But Anastasia? Never. And since when had Natasha morphed back into Agent Romanoff?

"Stasia, what happened?"

She shook her head. "I can't talk about it or I will probably do some things I might regret later. You can ask your partner all about it because she should have all the answers." Bitterness rang through every word that Anastasia spoke. Clint's face remained blank with shock and confusion for a few moments before he nodded slightly. Stasia relaxed and looked over at the other man who was watching her, a little shell shocked.

"Hey Coulson. What are you doing here?" Her normal sunny personality seemed to click back into place, despite some underlying tension.

"I'm helping Barton see you off on your date," Coulson folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, "And don't you think that dress is a little short?"

"Romanoff didn't," retorted Stasia coolly. Coulson snorted.

"You might want to choose someone else to set your dress length standards by," he told Anastasia. She just sighed and shook her head.

"It's a hi-lo dress Coulson; it's  _supposed_  to be short in the front."

"Doesn't mean it has to be that short," muttered the handler. Barton suddenly gave a suspiciously fake cough and Stasia whipped around. Sure enough, there was Dylan, walking through the doors, looking very smart in a pair of nice jeans and a navy blue sweater with a crisp white collar peeking out around his neck and similar cuffs adorning his wrists. Anastasia smiled a small smile and stepped out a few yards from Barton and Coulson to catch Dylan before the two men could eat him alive. Dylan's mouth dropped open a few inches when he caught his first glimpse of Anastasia and a slight blush crept up both of their necks. He finally reached where she was standing and she gave him a dazzling grin.

"Uh…hey," Dylan managed to get out. "You look wonderful."

Stasia smiled graciously, "Thanks…my sister and Romanoff got to me."

Dylan smiled a little and glanced behind her where Coulson and Barton were both giving him the evil eye. Anastasia grimaced.

"Look…" she trailed off for a moment until Dylan's eyes returned to her face. "I'm really sorry about this, okay? But Barton wouldn't let me go unless he got to meet you and I'm afraid he's going to give you the third degree."

"Oh." Dylan paled a couple shades and swallowed noisily. "Well, best not to keep him waiting then."

Stasia nodded and linked her arm through Dylan's supportively. They walked back to where Barton and Coulson were waiting. Taking a deep breath, Anastasia just went for it.

"Dylan, meet my supervising officer, Clint Barton and our mission handler, Phil Coulson. Clint, Phil, this is my date, Dylan."

Dylan held out a hand to both Coulson and Clint, who each took it and shook it firmly. Anastasia winced at the way it looked like Barton was trying to break Dylan's hand. "Nice to meet you, sirs."

Coulson nodded a little bit of approval and Stasia let out a tiny bit of the breath she had been holding. But then, Barton started to talk.

"Look, kid. I was a teenage boy once. I know what you're all after. So be very careful when you answer this question. What exactly are your intentions with Anastasia?" Clint stared intimidatingly down at Dylan, hands lightly fiddling with his bow. Dylan swallowed again and sent a nervous glance at Stasia, who tried to put as much apology as she could into the half a second that she held his eyes.

"Well…uh…I g-guess…" Dylan's shy side was coming out in full force and his stutter became very prominent as the pressure pounded into him from Barton. "I mean, I was going to t-take her to a movie and m-maybe get something to eat and then bring her home, s-sir."

Barton's glare didn't lessen any. "And after tonight?"

Dylan's hands were pressed firmly against his legs, to hide the sweating, assumed Anastasia. "W-well, sir, that r-really depends on whether or not Anastasia sees fit to go on another d-date with me or not."

Anastasia glanced sideways at Dylan, surprised by his response. He was looking down at his feet and his neck and ears were completely red.

_Does he think that he's not good enough for me?_

Stasia snorted internally; that was ridiculous and she was going to tell him so as soon as they got out of here. She looked back to Barton and thought that just maybe she saw a tiny bit of respect glimmering there. At any rate, that response seemed to satisfy her SO and he abandoned that line of questioning. Now, Barton crossed his arms and somehow increased the intensity of the glare he was directing at the teenage boy in front of him.

"So, you like Stasia then?"

"V-very much so, s-sir."

"Good. Then you'll understand that we like her too. Lately, she's become an integral part of my world, as well as that of my partner. If she gets hurt in any way, shape, or form, it's on your head. She deserves respect and she's going to get it, isn't she?"

Dylan nodded quickly, as if the speed would ease the burn of Barton's glowering. "Of c-course, sir."

"Good." Barton gave him a searching look. "And…" he leaned in to whisper something in Dylan's ear. Anastasia watched curiously, mostly concerned about what Barton could possibly be saying.

_"If you break her heart, I will end you. Understand?"_

Dylan paled even further, if that was possible, and nodded, swallowing back the pit of fear that was working its way from his stomach to his throat.

"Good," said Barton for a third time. "You two have a good time now."

Dylan sagged almost imperceptibly with relief and Stasia wound her arm through his again to keep him from collapsing to the floor. She glared at Barton, making sure that he knew exactly how she felt about that little interrogation. He matched her glare, telling her that he didn't care how she felt, he would do it anyway.

"Make sure you talk to them," she said as flatly as she could manage, surpressing the anger that threatened to rear its ugly head again. Without waiting to see Barton's response she turned and set off at a pace that was practically dragging Dylan along with her. She desperately needed to be anywhere but S.H.I.E.L.D. right now.

"Have her back by ten…uh, nine-thirty!" Coulson called after them. Stasia swatted the air behind her in acknowledgement and then they were out the door, free from overprotective supervising officers; at least, for a couple of hours.

* * *

As soon as Stasia and Dylan had disappeared out the door, Barton was on his feet, swinging his bow over his shoulder. His protective look had turned into one of furious worry.

"What the hell happened to Tasha and Natalia?" he cursed under his breath and took off toward the living quarters without so much as a goodbye to his handler. Coulson watched him rush off, worried a little himself.

"Never a dull moment with you four," he muttered, shaking his head, "Never a dull moment."

 


	16. God Blessed The Broken Road

**Chapter 16: God Blessed The Broken Road**

Clint's mind was mostly on Natasha as he sped toward her room, but there was small portion that couldn't stop thinking about Stasia. She would probably have some choice words for him when she got back, but at the moment, Clint really didn't care. Stasia could steam all night at Clint and he would take it gladly, as long as she was alive and well enough to be furious with him. She might never understand why Clint was so fiercely protective of her and, to an extent, Natasha and Natalia, because Stasia didn't know about the other girl.

No one did, except Natasha.

And Clint didn't intend to tell either twin about her anytime soon. The other girl (he refused to say her name, or even think it, because he was already a little unstable emotionally and that would be enough to put him over the edge) was his best kept secret. Not even Coulson knew about her; Natasha only knew because she had been there when it happened. Clint tried not to dwell on the other girl, because that was what the therapists had told him to do. They said move on, as if it were that simple. But the more time that Clint spent with Anastasia, the more time he spent thinking about the other girl. He thought about the way that they both smiled all the time and gave him that little hint of sass. They both loved with everything in them, gave all they had to the life they were given. Anastasia was a little more rough around the edges, but in a way that made it easier for Clint. It was easier, when he saw her lying motionless on the floor of their jet, to convince himself that she would pull through, because Stasia was stronger than the other girl. The other girl, well, she needed some protecting, much more than Anastasia was ever going to need, and Clint had promised…

_No._ He firmly set his jaw as he turned down the hallway towards Natasha's room.  _You're not going down that path today._

Clint pulled his key to Tasha's room out as he approached the door. The last look that Stasia had cast him alone was enough for him to risk a broken bone or two by entering without knocking. He stamped down on the Stasia/other girl box as he swiped his card and entered Tasha's room, still not 100% on what he was going to find.

It was a sight he hadn't seen since the twins arrived at S.H.I.E.L.D.

Natasha was curled loosely around herself, one hand resting on a pistol, the other hanging off the edge of the bed and wrapped around a half empty bottle of vodka. Several other empty bottles had been discarded on and around the bed. If Clint squinted, he could almost see tears sparkling in her eyes.

Which was ridiculous, because Natasha Romanoff doesn't cry.

Her hand tightened imperceptibly on the pistol when the door opened, but it went slack again once she realized who it was. Clint shut the door quickly behind him and moved over so that he was sitting next to Natasha.

"What do you want Clint?" Her voice was low and hoarse and devoid of any challenge; she just wanted to be left alone with her alcohol. Clint met her eyes and he could see the self-loathing there clear as day, had seen it many times before, in his own eyes, staring back at him from the mirror, and in Natasha's eyes, every day for the better part of their ten year partnership. He sighed and lightly brushed a hand along her jawline.

"I have orders to talk to you."

"From who?" Natasha took another swig out of her bottle and Clint made no move to stop her. It hadn't gotten to that yet. She was hurting and Clint wouldn't be the one to deny her of one of the only things that numbed the pain, not until it was life-threatening. That was their unspoken agreement; they let the other drink themselves to the edge before they pulled them back.

Neither of them acknowledged the fact that if the other wasn't there to stop them, they wouldn't stop at the edge.

"From Anastasia," admitted Clint. Natasha made a noise somewhere between a strangled snort and a gasp of pain into her vodka bottle.

"It's more than I deserve."

Clint stared down at Tasha somberly, his hand resting lightly on her leg. He hated seeing her like this, knew that she hated when she found him in a similar state. He longed to punch someone, to make someone pay for putting her through this hell, but he knew that, when Tasha had gotten through more than two bottles before he made it to her, the people at fault were either already dead or on the other side of the globe, in a Russian lab.

"What happened Tasha?"

"The madness got loose," she whispered, pressing her face into the flannel sheets that she had bought since she couldn't stand the S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued cotton ones. Clint tensed when he heard what she said, knew that she thought of herself as a collection of madness and that she devoted herself to fighting that madness every day. He knew better, was certain that Natasha was more than madness, told her every day that she was hope and promise and the future for him, although he didn't come out quite so bluntly and say it. Clint was aware of Natasha's triggers. These were her breaking point; the few times when she simply couldn't get a cap on the madness. He had set almost every single one off at some point, unintentionally, but that happened when she was stubborn and refused to tell him what topics to avoid.

"What did they say?"

"Just Natalia," choked out Natasha and this time Clint knew that he wasn't imagining the tears in the corners of her eyes, but he didn't say anything. "It was the dancing."

Natasha hadn't completely fallen apart yet, so Clint knew that there was more to it. She always held it together long enough for him to get there and take the burden for her, and then she let everything go. Clint laced his fingers through hers supportively, letting her know silently that he was ready to carry her through this as he always had and always would.

"I…" Tasha's voice faltered and Clint squeezed her hand. "It wasn't me…it was Natalia Alianovna…"

That was when Clint knew that this was more than Stasia had let on. Natasha hadn't had a lost control to Natalia Alianovna in years. It was only when she was at her weakest that the triggers would result in a complete loss of control. He knew that Natalia Alianovna Romanova was in fact a completely different person than Natasha Romanoff, not just figuratively, but literally. It had to do with the brainwashing that Natasha had suffered at the hands of the Red Room and the dozens of experiments, but Clint hadn't asked for a full explanation. It hadn't mattered to him, because he only wanted to know Natasha and that was who she was. Clint laid down next to Tasha and wrapped her solidly in his arms, holding his breath, waiting for her to tense up because she normally didn't like it when he did things like that, but she leaned into him now, pressing her face into the Kevlar vest that he was still wearing and he could feel the tears running down his arms. It scared Clint to death that Natasha was crying; she never cried, not at failed missions, not when she was injured, never. But whatever Natalia Alianovna had done to Talia was enough to break Natasha.

"What did she do, Tasha?" Clint rubbed comforting circles into her back, rocking her softly while he whispered in her ear.

"I…she…she hit Talia." Now Natasha tensed, as if she expected Clint to be angry with her, but how could he be, when he knew how much she cared? He never stopped his soothing motions, never moved his arms from around her. Once Clint didn't pull away, Natasha swallowed and spoke again, voice rough with tears and thick with guilt and contempt for herself.

"Talia…she…she called me предатель again." Shakes ripped through Natasha and she finally let go of the ledge she had been clinging to. The half empty vodka bottle fell from her grasp and hit the floor, shattering and splattering vodka everywhere. Clint pulled Natasha closer, leaving no space between them, desperately wishing that he could protect her from the demons that haunted her and knowing that he never could. So he settled for holding her, for being strong in the rare moments when she wasn't. He gently rocked her back and forth and let her cry herself dry in his arms. He didn't speak anymore, didn't muddy up the air with words the way that so many people did, until Natasha finally pulled back and looked up at him.

"I'm a monster," she whispered.

"No." Clint's voice was firm and steady. "You are not a monster Nat. If you were, you wouldn't be here, beating yourself up over this. You are not the monster. Natalia Alianovna is the monster."

She buried her face in his chest again and he felt her sigh softly.

"She's part of me Clint. How can I face them again when a part of me is responsible for causing them more pain?"

"Because you're going to explain it to them. Or at least to Natalia. And they're going to understand because they'll see what I can see in you so clearly Nat."

"What can you possibly see that they won't hate me for?"

"You care," said Clint simply. He knew that she would hate it, knew that she would want to deny it, knew that she would hide behind her walls and insist that she didn't, that she was indifferent.

But he also knew that she would look inside and be forced to admit that he was right.

Natasha must have known it too, because she didn't bother fighting him about it. She rested her forehead against his chest.

"What do I do, Clint?"

"You talk to her. And you apologize. She needs to see you as Natasha again, not Natalia Alianovna. But you have to wait until after I go and check on her."

"You're leaving?" Alarm colored Natasha's voice and she pulled back to look at him with frightened eyes. They had never left each other alone in times like this, but Clint had promised Stasia and he wouldn't break another promise.

Not after the other girl.

"I promised Stasia, Nat. I have to go." His eyes pleaded with her to understand and she did, she saw the guilt in his eyes that she saw whenever he had been thinking about that other girl. She might not like that he had to leave her alone, but she would never hurt him on purpose so she nodded and he relaxed.

"When?"

"Now," he murmured, his chin resting on the top of her head and she sighed again. Cling disentangled himself and sat up. Natasha did as well and Clint brushed a stray hair back from her face.

"I'll be back," he told her. She nodded, knowing that he would be and that, somehow, he would help her through this.

After all, he always did.

* * *

Clint debated whether or not it was smart to use the air vents to get to Natalia. In the end, he decided that she had had enough shocks for one day and that he would just use the door. Natasha had told him that she was probably still in Stasia's room, so he went there first and lightly tapped on the door. There was no answer, but he could just make out the slight scratching of a pencil if he strained his ears. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the access card that he had for Stasia's room (special privilege as her SO) and swiped in. The scratching stopped as soon as the door opened. Clint walked in with hands raised. He saw Natalia sitting on the bed, back against the headboard and knees pulled up to her chest. A thick notebook was resting on her knees and she watched every move that Clint made, from closing the door to walking over and coming to rest on the edge of the bed. Her eyes were guarded, almost as closed off as they had been on the day that he walked into her interrogation room and she almost broke his wrist.

"Why are you here Barton?"

It was so much like what Natasha had said and the pain and suffering in Natalia's voice mirrored what he had heard just a few minutes earlier, even if she wasn't showing any major signs on the outside. Clint's heart broke at the way that the young girl wrapped her arms around her middle, as if she had to physically hold herself together. But her eyes refused to accept help, the same way that Natasha had at first refused his help when he brought her in.

_You don't have to live life alone, Natalia_ , Clint told her silently.

Out loud, he said, "Stasia made me promise to check in on you. I try to keep my promises."

"I told her I would be fine," muttered Natalia. She looked back down at her notebook and made a few more strokes with her pencil. Clint eyed the paper curiously.

"I didn't know that you draw."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," answered Natalia drily. Clint's face fell a tiny bit and Talia looked up. Her own eyes softened a smidge at the wounded look he was giving her. She sighed and gestured to her notebook.

"It's a method of release," she told him, "I started it when we came to America. When someone hurts me or Stasia, I draw their face in the notebook. It's almost like I can trap them in there, where they can't come after us again."

"And who are you drawing now?" Clint asked the question, even though he already knew the answer. Natalia didn't reply; she simply turned the notebook around and showed him her almost completed picture. The name in the lower right hand corner read  _Natasha Romanoff_.

Clint shook his head a little bit. "You aren't drawing Natasha Romanoff."

"Yes I am," Natalia's gaze was back to steel. "She hurt me."

"That's not what I meant. That woman you drew right there, that isn't Natasha Romanoff."

"Now is really not the moment for riddles, Barton."

"Look at the eyes." Clint pointed to the emerald orbs that Natalia had sketched. "Those aren't Tasha's eyes. Tasha's eyes are full of light and soft around the edges."

Natalia's eyes hardened. "That's what her eyes looked like."

"I know." Clint cast the picture a sad look and he stood up. "That's because you weren't talking to Natasha Romanoff."

He turned and walked back over to the door. Setting one hand on the doorknob, he looked back at Natalia. She was staring at him uncomprehendingly.

"When she comes," he told her, "and she will, ask her about Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Because that is who you are sketching." Without another word, Clint slipped out the door, leaving Natalia to ponder his words and await the arrival of her SO.

* * *

It was late when she finally came. Clint had forced Stasia to stay away after she came home, to give Natasha and Natalia the space that they needed, so Natalia was still alone when Natasha finally went to her at one in the morning. She moved as an arrow through the dark silence, a mug of warm tea in her hand. All evidence of her earlier breakdown had vanished, but inside she was just as shaken up. When she finally arrived outside Stasia's room (Natalia had just stayed there; Stasia was in Talia's room) Natasha took one final breath and used the access card that Clint had given her to enter the room.

Natalia was slumped over on the bed. She was still in the shorts and tank top that she had been wearing for training earlier and a notebook had fallen off the bed onto the floor. Natasha moved like a cat across the floor, not making a sound. She settled herself on the end of the bed without disturbing Natalia and she watched the sleeping blonde for a moment. Steam rose off the mug of tea and left little droplets on her face. Another deep breath and Natasha knew what she had to do. It was a little known fact that she liked to sing. Not in public and not loud in-your-face music. She preferred soft, sweet tunes that warmed your heart and sometimes melodies that cut your heart and soul and brought you to tears. Softly, she began to sing a lullaby that came from her childhood; although she didn't know whether it came from her family or from the Red Room. All she knew was that it was Russian and comforting and maybe those two things were what she needed to bridge the gap that Natalia Alianovna had caused between SO and trainee. She started with the verse in Russian, fighting to keep her voice steady when Natalia's eyes started to flutter.

_~Где мечтательные потоки Волга_  
Там в одиноко России роза  
Глядя нежно  
Вниз по колено  
Где карие глаза ребенка блестят  
слушать

_Ev'ry ночь вы услышите ее напевают  
Русский колыбельная_

_Просто немного жалобный мотив  
Когда ее ребенок начинает плакать_

_Рок-бай мой ребенок  
Где-то там может быть_

_Земля, которая бесплатно для вас и меня  
И русская колыбельная~_

Natalia stared at Natasha with wide eyes. Natasha forced herself not to hide behind a mask; that wasn't what she needed to do right now. Slowly she continued on to the English verse of the lullaby. She was more than surprised when Natalia's voice joined her, a light, quiet soprano, but she very clearly knew the words.

_~Where the dreamy Volga flows_  
There's a lonely Russian rose  
Gazing tenderly  
Down upon her knee  
Where a baby's brown eyes glisten  
Listen

_Ev'ry night you'll hear her croon  
a Russian lullaby_

_Just a little plaintive tune  
When her baby starts to cry_

_Rock-a-bye my baby  
Somewhere there may be_

_A land that's free for you and me  
And a Russian lullaby~_

They finished the verse together and for a moment there was nothing but peaceful silence between them. But then the cold returned to Natalia's eyes and she folded her arms.

"Natalia…" Natasha's voice cracked and she was forced to stop speaking. She held out the mug to her young protégée. Natalia warily took the steaming drink and took a sip.

"I'm so sorry." Natasha dropped her face into her hands because she knew that it wasn't enough, it would never be enough to fix what had been done and she couldn't bear to see the hate in Natalia's eyes.

"He said to ask you something." Natalia finally spoke and while her voice wasn't warm, it wasn't the voice of the girl on the floor after Natalia Alianovna hit her. Natasha looked up slowly, cautiously.

"What?"

"He said to ask you about Natalia Alianovna Romanova." Natalia was watching Natasha closely, so she saw the flash of pain and shame and guilt that struck Natasha at her old name. Natasha took a deep breath, but Clint had told her that she needed to do this and she trusted him and she had already steeled herself to tell her most painful secret.

"Natalia Alianovna Romanova is me, but also not me." Natasha saw the confusion in Natalia's eyes, just as she had expected. "Bear with me for just a little while." She waited for Natalia to give a single, curt nod before continuing.

"In the Red Room, I was brainwashed. They took a pliable, moldable, five-year-old mind and shaped it into exactly what they wanted. Natalia Alianovna Romanova is a killer. She was raised with pain and that is all she knows. She responds to everything with violence, striking out against others." Natasha waited again for Natalia to nod before resuming her explanation.

"We told you that Clint was supposed to kill me and that he didn't. He gave me a chance to become Natasha Romanoff instead of Natalia Alianovna Romanova. But there were a few things that neither of us knew." Natasha closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. "One of those things is that there is a part of my brain that, because of experimentations and brainwashing by Red Room scientists, can never change."

Natalia's eyes had melted a bit and now were full of mostly confusion and disbelief. "What?"

Natasha nodded. "The way that it grew and the chemicals that were introduced to it, it cannot outgrow my violent upbringing. Its first reflex will always be to respond with violence. That part of my brain is Natalia Alianovna Romanova and she is a completely different person than I am."

"But she's still you." Natalia's words were somewhere between a question and a statement.

"Yes and no." Natasha let a breath out in a hiss. The worst was over. "When Natalia Alianovna is in control, she doesn't remember Natasha or anything that Natasha knows. But she is in my body and she wears my face, so physically, yes, she is me."

"Not quite," said Natalia, finally understanding the significance of Barton's comment. She reached down and grabbed the notebook off the floor and held it out to the puzzled Natasha. Tasha took it and studied the drawing that was showing.

"Barton says that those are Natalia Alianovna's eyes," Natalia told Natasha. She took a deep breath and let it out, sending the anger she had been harboring with it. "I think I agree with him."

Natasha looked up from the notebook and met Natalia's eyes. The latter were full of forgiveness and understanding of what it is to have your choices taken away from you. Natasha dropped her head into her hands again because she knew that  _she didn't deserve this_. She was a terrible person and she didn't deserve Natalia's forgiveness and she didn't deserve her understanding. Tasha had expected Talia to be angry, to throw things and rage, but she hadn't prepared herself for Talia to accept her explanation without much question. The reality was that Natasha was getting so much more than she had earned and she would never be able to pay it all back.

A pair of slim arms suddenly slid around Natasha's shoulders, not unlike the way that Clint had embraced her earlier. There was something more gentle and completely innocent about the way that Natalia encased Natasha in her arms. The younger girl was tentative, uncertain if this was really what she should be doing, but her heart was already telling her to let go of the hate because if she held onto it then she was going to lose one of the best things that she had ever gotten in her life.

After all, how many people found a big sister that they never knew existed?

The two Russians sat that way for a little while, each just enjoying the feel of the other and embracing the peace that had settle in the room again. Finally, Natalia retracted her arms and just laid her head on Natasha's shoulders.

"The lullaby that you sang earlier," she said softly, "Where did you learn it?"

"I'm not sure," replied Tasha honestly, "Somewhere in my childhood."

"My mother sang that lullaby to Stasia and me when we were very little. It's one of the only good memories I have of her."

Natasha leaned her head down so that it rested against Natalia's at an angle, her fiery red hair mingling with Talia's blonde strands. She didn't speak, but she took one of Talia's hands in her own and lightly traced shapes onto her palm.

"I think you might have learned it from my mother," whispered Natalia, just barely loud enough for Natasha to hear. Tasha turned her head so that her eyes met Natalia's.

"How?"

"We told you this," Talia reminded her. "Before my mother met my father and joined the insurgents, she worked for the Red Room."

"Yes, I remember that. But a lot of people worked for the Red Room Talia."

"But not all of them were in charge of caring for the Widow applicants," she said gently.

Natasha paused for a long moment. "No, I don't suppose they were."

Natalia reached out and took her mug of tea back into her hands. She took several long sips and leaned her head back onto Tasha's shoulder.

"How did you do it?" she asked suddenly. It had been nagging her for a long time now and she figured that now was as good a time as any to ask. Natasha looked over with questions in her eyes.

"Do what?"

"How did you leave? All on your own…I could barely get out with Stasia and our dad…and we weren't the government's pet project either…"

Natasha sighed and pressed her lips together and laid her head back on top of Natalia's.

"I don't really know," she finally admitted. "I guess…I had been with the Red Room for 13 years and you can't completely suppress the humanity in a person and I started to wonder if there was anything more in life. So I just…walked out. They didn't have any guards on me and they didn't try to stop me. They knew that I was stronger than anyone they could send after me."

"But they didn't really just let you walk out, did they?" Natasha shook her head.

"They're waiting for me. However they can get me back. Whether I come back willingly or they drag me back. They're just biding their time."

Natalia suddenly squeezed Natasha's hand very tightly. "You won't go back to them, will you Tasha?"

The nickname that Clint had taken to using rolled off of Natalia's tongue with such ease and Natasha was surprised to feel her heart twist at the pleading look in Talia's eyes.

"Not willingly," she replied quietly. A huge yawn split Natalia's face and Natasha caught it out of the corner of her eye.

"You should get some more sleep." She dropped Natalia's hand and found the pajama's that Talia had dropped to the floor. Natalia took the clothes and slipped into the bathroom really quickly to change, hiding another yawn behind her hand. When she emerged two minutes later, she was surprised to see Natasha still standing there.

Honestly, Natasha was surprised that she was still there too. It wasn't like her at all, but then again, Natalia seemed to change all sorts of things about her.

Talia padded over and slipped under the covers. Natasha smoothed the comforter and turned to go, but Natalia caught her arm.

"Tasha?"

"Yes, Talia?"

"Don't leave us," she mumbled, already half asleep. A lump rose in Natasha's throat and her heart skipped a beat. Natalia's eyes were already closed, but as Natasha leaned down and gently kissed her forehead, she whispered a promise that she wasn't sure she could keep.

"I won't."

 


	17. That Led Me Straight To You

**Chapter 17: That Led Me Straight To You**

Stasia knew from the start that this date wasn't going to go as well as she had hoped. Every other thought that ran through her mind was about Natalia or Natasha and she barely registered the passing landscape outside her window.

But she tried, because she really did want things with Dylan to work out. She tried to listen to his questions, but her mind kept slipping back to the ice in Natasha's eyes and Natalia's cry of pain. They pulled into the parking lot of the movie theater, but Dylan didn't make any move to get out. He looked over at Anastasia and waited until she finally turned to meet his eyes.

"You don't really want to see a movie tonight, do you?"

Stasia sighed. "That obvious, huh?"

Dylan nodded. The look in his eyes was fearful, as if he thought that he was the reason that she wasn't 100% into the date right now. Stasia shook her head and smiled.

"It's not your fault," she told him. "I really do want to be on a date with you but…well, some things happened while I was getting ready and I'm just worried about Natalia. And a little bit about Romanoff too, I suppose."

Dylan's eyebrows flew up on his forehead. "You're worried about the Black Widow?"

"A little. What?" Stasia questioned his doubting look. "She's not a machine; I can be a little concerned if I want to. She wasn't herself when I left and she…"

Dylan's brown eyes melted into pools of worry as Stasia's sentence trailed off. "Are they both going to be alright?"

"I think so." Stasia jerked her head to the side noncommittally; she wasn't exactly sure. Dylan glanced down at his hands.

"Tell you what," he said, looking back up, "Why don't we ditch the movie and go get ice cream? I know a great local parlor."

"We don't have to do that. I don't want to ruin the night," protested Anastasia. Dylan gave her a smile that was warm enough to surprise her.

"It's fine, really. You wouldn't really enjoy the movie anyway, not like this. Ice cream will be better and we can, um, talk...or something…" A blush rose up on Dylan's neck while he spoke, eliciting a laugh from Anastasia.

"That sounds like a wonderful plan," she said sincerely. Dylan nodded and started the car up, pulling out of the parking lot. Anastasia leaned forward and turned on the radio, wondering to herself what station she would find playing, was completely shocked when the soft notes of a country song played through the speakers. She listened for a moment, ignoring the redness emerging on Dylan's ears, before she began to softly sing along.

_They smile, that smile_  
They bat those eyes  
They steal you with "hello"  
They kill you with "goodbye"  
They hook you with one touch and you can't break free  
Yeah, the trouble with girls is nobody loves trouble as much as me

Dylan took his eyes off the road for half a second to glance over at Stasia. She smiled at him and her whole face lit up. He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised.

"You like country music?"

"Have you met my SO?" Stasia rolled her eyes. "Barton is from Iowa; he's a country boy at heart and I may have taken a liking to some of the tunes he plays."

"Hmmm…" mused Dylan, pushing on the gas pedal again. "That's something I've been meaning to ask you, actually."

Anastasia waited expectantly, watching Dylan chew on the words before saying them, fighting with how he should phrase his question. Finally, he decided to just go for it.

"What's it like to be working with Hawkeye?" he blurted, the now familiar blush rising on his neck. Stasia smirked, pondering what she could say to that that wouldn't come back to bite her in the end.

"I'm not sure you want to get me started…"

"No really, I want to know," insisted Dylan. "Plus, I told Ethan that I would ask."

"Well, how can I refuse, if it will save you from merciless teasing by Ethan?" joked Anastasia. "I guess it's…interesting…"

"Oh c'mon, you gotta give me more than that!" exclaimed Dylan. "Like does he do his brooding eye thing or hide out in the rafters all the time?"

Anastasia snorted and Dylan looked offended.

"What? Those are serious rumors that are going around and people see him do that stuff all the time!"

"Well he doesn't do the 'brooding eye thing' all the time, although he is partial to higher places. I guess I don't know what's special about it because I don't know what a normal S.H.I.E.L.D. trainee gets put through."

Dylan tipped his head toward her. "Fair point.

"So what do you do in normal S.H.I.E.L.D. training?" Stasia was genuinely curious. She and Talia had led rather sheltered lives since they joined S.H.I.E.L.D., at least, if you use the word 'sheltered' loosely. The only personnel they had had contact with were Barton, Romanoff, and Coulson. Anastasia was interested to find out what they had gained, or lost, by training personally rather than in a traditional manner.

"Um, well we spend probably half our time learning theory and doing paperwork and stuff like learning to write mission reports. The rest of our time is physical drills and exercise."

"Paperwork?" Anastasia wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Yeah." Dylan glanced over and saw her grimace. "What, doesn't Barton make you learn theory and stuff?"

"Um no." Stasia shuddered, as if the very thought of paperwork could be shaken off.

"Oh you are  _so_  lucky," groaned Dylan. "I swear, Camilla and Troy are trying to drown us in paperwork and we aren't even full -fledged agents yet."

Anastasia laughed, settling into a sense of security and comfort as Dylan guided his car into the parking lot of a mom 'n' pop ice cream parlor. This time, when the car stopped, Dylan jumped out and ran over, stumbling a little bit, to open her door for her. Stasia smiled sweetly and slipped out of the car. A few inches of awkward space existed between them when they started their trek to the door, but Stasia fixed that quickly by looping her arm through Dylan's.

"So how good is this ice cream?" she questioned, enjoying the feel of the evening air.

"It's the best ice cream you'll ever have, I guarantee it," promised Dylan, swinging open the door and ushering Stasia inside.

"I'll hold you to that," she warned with a grin. "Especially since Barton already promised to take me to Le Mars someday. It's the ice cream capital of the world. It's in Iowa," she added, catching Dylan's confused look. He nodded in understanding and they sat down in a booth. An older woman with silver hair and a little white apron on made her way over to them. A smile lit up her wrinkled face as she peered over her spectacles at the two teens.

"Hello there Dylan!" The old woman leaned over and wrapped an arm around Dylan's shoulders affectionately. "And who is this lovely young woman?"

"This is Anastasia." A touch of red colored Dylan's cheeks and all that Anastasia could do was smile. "Anastasia, meet Margaret Shapp. She owns the parlor."

"It's very nice to meet you, ma'am." Margaret smiled dotingly at Stasia.

"And you as well dear. It's so nice to see Dylan in here with someone; he's always all alone. And he's such a sweetie!"

Dylan coughed and looked out the window, embarrassed. Anastasia grinned at Margaret, who was completely oblivious to Dylan's discomfort.

"I know he is," Stasia said, smirking internally at the blush she could see crawling up his neck. Margaret squeezed her shoulder and pulled out a notepad.

"So what will you kids be having tonight?"

Dylan looked to Stasia, waiting for her to order. She studied the chalkboard menu for a moment.

"I'll have a sundae with cookies 'n' cream ice cream and extra fudge sauce, please." Margaret nodded, jotting down the order.

"And I'll have the usual," said Dylan smiling affectionately at the old woman. She smiled that same sweet smile.

"I'll have that out in a jiffy," she said, toddling back over to the counter. Dylan just shook his head and grinned wryly at the retreating form of the old woman. She was back in less than five minutes, a sundae balanced in each hand. Dylan pulled out his wallet to pay for them, but Margaret fixed him with a look.

"Now honey, you put that away. These sundaes are on the house. You kids enjoy your ice cream now."

"Thank you," said Anastasia, surprised by the woman's generosity. Dylan murmured thanks as well and they were left alone. Stasia took a scoop of her ice cream and slowly brought it to her lips. Dylan was watching her closely, not caring that his own sundae was starting to melt around the edges. Stasia licked the ice cream off the spoon, savoring the creamy flavor it released onto her tongue and she smiled.

"That is amazing." Dylan relaxed and took a bite of his own sundae.

"I told you so," he said a little smugly. Anastasia rolled her eyes and didn't reply, settling for a bite of her ice cream instead. For the first time since they had left the movie theater, her mind drifted back to Talia. Her sister loved ice cream, but they rarely got to have it. Every year for their birthday, Stasia got Talia a little carton of vanilla and vowed not to eat any of it, but they always ended up sharing it, usually curled up with a movie while they ate it.

"You're thinking about your sister again, aren't you?" Dylan's voice cut through Anastasia's memory and jerked her back to present day. A guilty look crossed her face.

"How could you tell?"

"Your face goes all soft and your eyes get this look in them…I can't even describe it." Dylan smiled and shook his head a bit. "I would say love, but it's more than that. There isn't really a word for it, I guess."

"That would be me and Talia," said Stasia, swallowing some more ice cream, "no word to describe us."

"And why is that?" The question was hesitant and quiet, as if Dylan wasn't quite sure how she would react to his asking it. He was swirling his spoon through his sundae and looking down. Stasia paused, taken aback by the question. The answer was, of course, layers and layers and some of them she just wasn't ready to share yet.

"Natalia and I were raised in Russia," she finally admitted, staring at her own sundae. "We didn't have much but each other from the very start. We lived that way for eleven years before our father sent us to America. But here it was the same. We still only had each other."

"Not anymore." Stasia looked up to see Dylan watching her, a wealth of caring in his eyes.

"No," she agreed softly, "Not anymore."

They were silent for a moment then. A heavy atmosphere hung over their booth and the only sound was the slight clinking of spoons against their sundae dishes. Finally, Anastasia broke the tension.

"What about you?" she asked curiously. "How did you end up here?"

"My dad works for the FBI and my mom the Secret Service, so it kind of runs in the family," Dylan answered, "Although, I am the first kid to follow my parents."

"Siblings?" Anastasia raised her eyes in surprise. She had kind of just assumed that Dylan was an only child, but they hadn't really talked about it. From the way Dylan groaned and nodded, she supposed that he was pretty far from an only child.

"I have eight siblings," Dylan informed her. Stasia gasped and set her spoon down in surprise.

" _Eight_?" Dylan nodded.

"And I'm right in the middle." He grimaced and Stasia winced.

"Brothers or sisters?"

"Both." Dylan started back in on his sundae. "Three older sisters: Tara, she's 26, Michelle, she's 22, and Jenny, she's 21. Then I have one older brother, Cameron, and he's 19."

"One, two, three, four," counted off Anastasia, licking some fudge sauce off of her spoon. "And you're number five. So who're six, seven, eight, and nine?"

Dylan chuckled at her assessment of his family. "My younger brother Lewis, he's 12. Finally, there's the triplets, Will, Penelope, and Bethany. They're seven."

"Seven year old triplets?" Anastasia grinned. "Your parents are brave."

"That was  _not_  planned." Dylan shook his head with a wry smile. "Actually, none of them were. Both my parents were happy with three boys and three girls, but the triplets just sort of…happened."

Anastasia snorted. "So what do your older siblings do if they're not training to be secret agents?"

"Well, Tara's in med school, training to be a pediatrician." Dylan scraped his spoon along the bottom of his sundae dish. "Michelle graduates in the spring from Arizona State University with her degree in educational mathematics. She wants to teach middle school math."

Stasia shuddered and Dylan nodded in agreement. "It's terrible; I have no idea what draws her to it. Jenny's in her third year of culinary school in New York. She wants to own her own Greek restaurant. Cameron is in a pre-law program at University of Rochester; he's got his sights set on Harvard Law."

"Wow, Dylan, you come from a family of brainiacs and big dreamers." They both laughed softly. "So what do your parents think of you joining S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Dylan's face fell a tiny bit. "They don't actually know."

"Wait, what?" Stasia frowned, confused. "How does that work out?"

"I was recruited out of my high school, right after ninth grade. I didn't even graduate there," explained Dylan. His voice was barely above a whisper and it had turned hoarse. "I wasn't allowed to tell my parents about S.H.I.E.L.D. because of the secrecy of the agency. Hardly anyone knows it exists, even within the other government agencies." Dylan swallowed and looked away, trying unsuccessfully to hide his tears from Anastasia. She reached out instinctively and set a hand on top of his comfortingly.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. staged my death," choked out Dylan, "My whole family thinks that I died in a car crash two years ago."

Shock radiated through Anastasia. She couldn't believe that the agency she had come to respect would do something as terrible as this. They tore a family apart, ripped a young boy from everything that was familiar, all for the sake of keeping themselves hidden. She hadn't even known that S.H.I.E.L.D. was so deeply buried within their society. Stasia had no words she could say, nothing that could ease the sting of Dylan's past. So she stood up and slid over so that she was sitting next to him. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders supportively, forgetting for a minute that they were supposed to be on a date. For a moment, they were just friends again and Anastasia could see that her friend was hurting, something that she never wanted to have to see again.

"Why did you do it?" she asked softly, ghosting her thumb over the back of his hand.

"It was all that I wanted," he whispered, "All my life I wanted to be like my parents, to help people, protect people. And here was a chance to be part of an agency that focuses entirely on keeping people safe and they wanted  _me_  to join." Dylan pulled back and looked at Anastasia, tear streaks glimmering on his cheeks. "I couldn't say no, even at that price. Looking back, I might have made a different choice, but I guess it's water under the bridge. Camilla helps me keep up on what they're doing and I have her and Troy and Ethan." Dylan looked down at his lap. "I make do."

"You shouldn't have to." Anastasia couldn't stop picturing Natalia, still and cold; couldn't stop thinking of how empty her world would be without her sister in it. "S.H.I.E.L.D. shouldn't be allowed to do that."

"It was my choice, in the end. They didn't force me either way." Dylan shook his head and a tiny smile appeared on his lips. He bumped his shoulder against Stasia's in a friendly manner. "Besides, if I hadn't, then I might not have met you."

Anastasia blushed and looked away. Dylan glanced at her empty ice cream dish. "Are you ready to go?"

Stasia nodded hesitantly, not wanting to seem to eager. "I'd like to check on Talia."

"I figured." Dylan nudged her and Stasia slid out of the booth, Dylan right behind her. They both waved to Margaret and as they stepped out the door Dylan tentatively laced his fingers with Anastasia's. Margaret wiped off the dishes with an old rag and a smile came across her face, one that lingered long after the young couple had left.

* * *

Stasia peered through the glass doors at the front of S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ and groaned when she saw Barton still sitting in the same place he had been when they left. She glanced at the clock: 10:30

"You should probably stay out here if you don't want him to eat you alive." She told Dylan. He followed her gaze and nodded, wincing slightly when he saw the time.

"You won't be in too much trouble will you?" he asked worriedly. Stasia shook her head.

"He won't be mad at  _me_. That's why you're staying in the car." She looked down at her lap, wondering how to do this good-bye without being awkward.

"Well…um…I had a good time tonight," said Dylan, breaking the tension, "Even without the movie."

"I did too," Stasia replied sincerely, "We should do this again sometime…sometime when I'm a little less distracted." She bit her lip and looked away, a tiny bit embarrassed.

"Definitely." Dylan nodded enthusiastically. Anastasia set her hand on the handle and opened the door.

"Then I guess…good night Dylan." She smiled one last time and started to shut the door.

"Good night Anastasia." Dylan watched the blonde haired Russian make her way to the entrance of S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, a dopey smile on his face. She looked back one last time before she went in and raised a hand in farewell. He waved and she turned away, leaving him to make his way back to the regular trainee barracks.

* * *

"What the hell are you doing here, Barton?" Stasia rolled her eyes at her SO as she walked in the front doors of S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ.

"Waiting for you," said Barton firmly, folding his arms. "Where've you been? Coulson said to be back by 9:30."

"Curfew for all trainees is at midnight," Anastasia informed him, "I don't care what Coulson says. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a sister that needs me." She turned to storm off down the hall, but Barton caught her arm and held it in an iron grip. Stasia sighed.

"Barton-"

"You can't go to her yet Stasia." Barton's stormy blue eyes were serious. Indignation rose up in Anastasia.

"Like hell I can't! This is my sister!"

"Natasha has to get there first," said Clint, his voice low, rumbling, and soothing. "She's working up to it."

"I don't give a crap about Natasha right now!" Stasia glared daggers at her SO. "I spent the entire night worried about my sister and it practically ruined my date! I am going to see her and you can't stop me!"

"I thought you might say that." Barton sighed wearily as if steeling himself to do something he really didn't want to. Suddenly, he reached a hand up to Anastasia's neck and pinched the nerve there, causing his trainee to go slack. He caught her before she could slump to the ground and cradled her in his arms.

"Sorry, Stasia," he whispered and he carried her off to her sister's empty room.

* * *

Stasia woke surrounded by the scent of her sister the next morning, peppermint and rain, an odd combination that Anastasia loved. She stretched and then froze, realizing that she wasn't in her room. She sat straight up and looked around.

_Why am I in Natalia's room?_

Slowly, the memories of last night came to her. The last thing that she remembered was Barton trying to stop her from going to see Natalia. Judging by her situation, he was successful.

_He is_ so _dead._

She stood up and froze again when she realized that she wasn't in her dress anymore, but she didn't remember changing into the comfortable cami and shorts that she was wearing.

_What exactly happened last night?_

Irritation rose up through Stasia and she walked over to the door. She tried to turn the handle, but found it locked.

_God dammit. The overprotective idiot locked me in Talia's room._

She cast her eyes around the room, searching for a way out and her eyes landed on the air vent.

_Perfect._

* * *

Natasha woke surrounded by the scent of Clint, one of her favorite ways to wake up. He smelled like pine and char and right now his arms were holding her in a cocoon of warm safety. She stretched, cat-like, and felt him stir behind her.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she said teasingly. Clint smiled at her, a tiny bit of worry still lingering behind his eyes.

"How are you?" he asked. Natasha shrugged.

"I'll be okay. I'm better than you're going to be once you let Anastasia out of Talia's room."

Clint winced and Natasha smirked, rolling over and crawling out of bed. Clint was just standing up when the shrill ringing of a phone filled the room. Natasha snatched her cell off of the nightstand and rolled her eyes.

"What could Coulson possibly want now?" She flipped the phone open. "What is it Coulson?"

She frowned, listening to whatever he had to say. "Sure, we'll be there in 20." She snapped the phone shut and looked at Clint. "Coulson wants to see us."

"I gathered that much, funny enough." He ran his hand through his messy hair. "Why do you look so concerned?"

"I think it's for the thing we filed for…y'know,  _the thing_."

"Oh shit," Clint froze, wide-eyed. "He's doing that  _now?_ "

"Apparently." Natasha grimaced. "We better go get the twins."

* * *

Natalia woke with a stinging pain in her left cheek. She groaned and turned over, eyeing the clock.

_Nine o'clock…how did I get away with sleeping so late?_

She jumped slightly when there was a screech from above her head. She looked up to see a pair of familiar hands removing the air vent cover. Anastasia poked her head down into the room.

"Talia? Oh good, you're awake." Stasia dropped down onto the bed, shooting her sister a worried look. Natalia smiled convincingly, giving her sister a quick hug.

"Are you alright?" Natalia nodded, allowing Stasia to scrutinize her until she was satisfied.

"Sooooooo how was your date?" Talia waggled her eyebrows at Anastasia and the latter smacked her sister's shoulder playfully.

"It was lovely," she said, "He showed me the best ice cream parlor; we have to go back there sometime."

"How was Barton?" Stasia grimaced.

"I suppose it could have been worse, but I don't really see how. I felt so bad about it and he's not even sorry!"

"It's Barton," said Talia, "Is he ever sorry about anything?"

"I'll make him sorry," said Stasia darkly, "He locked me in your room when I got home so that I wouldn't get in the way of Natasha…doing whatever it was she was doing."

Natalia snorted. "Yeah…I'm not supporting him in that or anything, but it probably seemed like a good idea to him at the time."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," muttered Stasia, eyeing Talia curiously. "So how are you and…Natasha…exactly?"

"We're fine," said Talia evenly, not elaborating. Stasia gave her another searching look, but didn't press the issue.

They both started a bit when there was a light tapping at the door, soft but urgent.

"Come in," they both called, knowing that no one would come to Talia's room this early other than Stasia, Romanoff, or Barton. The door swung open to reveal Romanoff with a slightly stressed look about her. She smirked a little when she saw Anastasia there, but she didn't comment on it. Instead, she turned her focus to Natalia.

"How are you doing?" asked Natasha, concern just barely tinging her voice.

"I'll be okay," replied Natalia, wincing at the pain in her cheek when she talked. She stretched lazily across her bed. "What's up?"

"We've got a meeting with Coulson in fifteen," Natasha informed them, pursing her lips. "We'll meet you two in the usual spot."

Natalia and Anastasia nodded. Talia pushed the covers back and made her way over to the bathroom. Natasha watched her go, and then gave a small nod to Anastasia and she was gone.

* * *

Clint was pacing by the statue of Peggy Carter where the four of them always met, anxiety pinching his face when Natasha walked up.

"Stasia isn't in-" Natasha held up a hand to stop him.

"She's with Natalia," she informed him, "And they should both be here in about five minutes."

"How did she get out?!" exclaimed Clint. "I locked that room with my personal key card!"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "She's  _your_  trainee, Clint. How do you think she got out?"

Clint thought for a second and then a light dawned in his eyes. "Air vents," he muttered, "I'm not sure whether to be proud or annoyed."

Natasha snorted. "Just forget it. Here they come."

The twins jogged up to the meeting space, Talia smiling and Stasia glaring at Barton.

"In my defense," he said, holding up his hands, "It was much less painful that way."

Anastasia rolled her eyes but didn't reply.

"We better get to Coulson," said Natasha, just a little tersely. The other three nodded, the twins wondering what had the older Russian on edge.

They were about to find out.

 


	18. A Little Less Talk

**Chapter 18: A Little Less Talk**

Two manila folders fell onto the desk in Coulson's office, one in front of Natalia and one in front of Anastasia. Each girl was sitting in one of the chairs and their respective SO's were standing behind them. The twins frowned at their unofficial handler, confused. Coulson took in their uncomprehending looks and turned an evil eye to Barton and Romanoff.

"You didn't tell them?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Didn't tell us what?" asked Natalia, starting to wonder what exactly was going on here.

"Things have been a little shaky, Coulson," said Natasha, sarcasm dripping off of every word.

"Yeah, between S.H.I.E.L.D. sending Stasia away and Talia recovering from  _catatonic shock_ , we haven't really had time," pitched in Barton, "We didn't think that you were going to get through it this soon."

"It was an unusual request," said Coulson in way of explanation, "We processed it specially."

"Didn't tell us  _what_?" Anastasia repeated her sister's earlier words, exasperated. Coulson sent one last look at Barton and Romanoff before refocusing on the girls in front of him.

"Two weeks ago, both of your supervising officers filed training reports. With those training reports, they submitted an application for each of you."

"Application?" inquired Stasia and Talia in unison. Coulson nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Barton and Romanoff have applied for you to be sent on your final training missions."

"Final training missions?" Stasia repeated, feeling ridiculously like a broken record.

"It means that they, as your supervising officers, believe that you meet all the skills that are required of a full S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and can therefore be promoted from your trainee status."

"What?!" Natalia and Anastasia rounded on their SO's. "You two filed for our promotion and you didn't even  _tell_   _us_?!"

Barton and Romanoff winced. "Things got a little…convoluted," offered Barton weakly. "But yes, we did. You're both ready to be doing solo missions-"

"-even if we don't like it," Natasha butted in. "You  _are_  ready. And S.H.I.E.L.D. needs dependable young agents more than anything right now."

"Now you just have to prove it to the higher ups in S.H.I.E.L.D.," said Coulson , drawing their attention back to him. "The way you do that is by completing a trial solo mission. We have a full backup team standing by in case of severe emergency, but we only intervene in case of fatalities." Coulson looked at them both somberly. "You run this like any other S.H.I.E.L.D. agent would."

Both twins were frozen, processing the onslaught of information. Stasia was the first one to work through it all.

"Solo missions…" she trailed off a bit. "That means that we won't run them together, will we?"

Coulson shook his head. "You each have a different trial mission."

The twins turned and met each other's eyes.

_I don't know if I can do that, Talia_

_Don't be silly, of course you can, Stasia. You can do anything you put your mind to._

_Yeah, but you're always there when I'm putting my mind to it._

_I'll still be there, Stasia. Just not right beside you._

Natalia tapped her temple and smiled. Stasia nodded and sighed. They both looked back at Coulson.

"When do we go?"

* * *

Stasia and Talia flipped silently through the two folders that Coulson had given them. Natasha and Clint were sparring on the mat in the middle of the training room, apparently ignoring their trainees completely. However, if you looked hard and long enough, you would see that the two senior agents were barely touching each other with each "blow" that they delivered and both their eyes' kept flitting over to where Stasia and Talia were sitting. Stasia's concentrated look was quickly turning into a frown and her brow furrowed with frustration. Finally, she smacked the Manila folder down onto the table, exasperated. Clint and Natasha dropped the sparring façade altogether and joined the girls at their table.

"What's wrong Stasia?" asked Clint, concerned. Natalia set her own folder to the side and looked questioningly at her sister as well.

"I can't possibly be ready for this." Stasia gestured to the folder and let her head bang down on the table with a solid  _thump!_

"Don't be silly," said Natasha, setting her hands lightly on Stasia's shoulders and gently massaging her back, "of course you're ready."

"How can I even be considered ready for a mission that takes place at a ball when  _I don't know how to dance?"_

Natasha and Clint paused, not sure that they had heard Stasia's muffled words correctly. They both looked at Natalia for confirmation. She sighed a little and nodded.

"Neither of us knows how to dance. We were too young when we left and we didn't really have time once we started running."

"Well, we obviously need to fix that," stated Natasha briskly. She grabbed Stasia's arm and hauled her to her feet, ignoring her miserable expression and giving Natalia a look that told her to get up as well.

"Dancing is one of a spies most important skills. It can be used to lull a mark into a false sense of security, to get physically close to someone in order to take something, or to draw attention to yourself and away from someone else."

Natasha grabbed her iPod and plugged it into the training room speakers. She whirled around and, before any of them could blink, she had snagged Clint's wrist and dragged him to his feet.

"Tasha, what are-"

"Watch," Natasha ordered the twins, ignoring Clint's protests. She released his hand and moved to start the music on her iPod. Clint immediately stepped back and crossed his arms, glaring at his partner. The redhead rolled her eyes and shot him a look, but Clint maintained his determined stare.

"I don't dance unless it's for a mission, Natasha. You know that.  _Everyone_ knows that."

Natasha didn't reply; instead she invaded Clint's personal space, leaving about an inch of breathing room between them and putting her hand out for him to take. The twins were fixated on their mentors like they were a very interesting tennis match. Clint tensed up and stared down into Natasha's emerald orb-like eyes. They weren't begging or pleading with him; that wasn't really Natasha's style. She was simply looking at him, waiting for him to give in, just like she knew he would, just like he always did. Breath hissed out of Barton's nostrils and his shoulders relaxed as he set his hand in Natasha's.

"Fine," he muttered, "Just this once."

The twins exchanged a smirk; this couldn't be the first time that Barton had said those words to his partner and they were fairly certain that it wouldn't be the last. Natasha reached over and tapped the play button on her iPod and then set a hand on Clint's shoulder. He hesitated barely a second before snaking an arm around her waist. The soft music permeated the silence and Stasia and Talia shared a look of surprise when they saw Natasha let Clint take the lead. Natasha caught the look out of the corner of her eye and smiled.

"Lesson one," she told them, "Always let the man lead. It builds their ego and makes them more amenable to giving you information. The footwork is easy enough." Natasha glanced down at her and Clint's slowly circling feet and the girls followed her gaze. "All you really have to do is listen to the beat. 1-2-3, 1-2-3. Although," she added as an afterthought, "If you aren't leading, it's really not that big a deal whether you know the dance or not; you just have to follow your partner." Natasha lapsed back into silence and the twins watched their mentors slowly revolving in the middle of the training room floor. Stormy blue eyes watched as the redhead casually laid her head against Clint's shoulder, but judging by the way that the latter's eyes widened the slightest bit and his grip tightened by the smallest margin, the move was anything but casual. Suddenly, Stasia got the feeling that they were intruding on something, despite the fact that this supposed to be a lesson for the two of them. She glanced sideways at Talia and figured that from the look on her sister's face that she felt the same. Stasia nudged Talia's arm and the two of them quietly grabbed their mission folders and snuck out of the room, leaving the two master assassins alone with each other. Both twins shook their heads as they left, wondering how long Clint and Natasha were going to insist on ignoring the feelings that they so obviously had for each other.

.

Clint's heart was beating rapidly and he was sure that the embarrassingly fast thumping could be felt by the redhead who had caused it. It was true that Clint didn't like to dance outside of missions; he could be clumsy at times and dancing just wasn't his strong suit. On the other hand, dancing here, with his partner in his arms, didn't seem so terribly awful. Natasha shifted her head just slightly and Clint kept spinning them in circles slowly, silently wishing the song would never end.

* * *

Stasia was contemplating her closet, trying to decide which clothes to take with her, when there was a swift knocking on her door. Frowning, she crossed the room and set her hand on the doorknob; no one that came to see her  _ever_  knocked. Clint used the air vents and Natasha and Natalia both just came in like they owned the place. Cautiously, Stasia cracked open the door and peered out, grinning when she saw who was standing there.

"Hey Dylan," she said, swinging the door all the way open. The dark haired boy smiled a small smile, but his eyes were full of confusion and something like worry. Stasia frowned and stepped back, gesturing for him to come in. Dylan hesitated over the threshold of her room before entering and Stasia was sure that they must be breaking a dozen S.H.I.E.L.D. protocols right now, but she really didn't care.

"What's wrong Dylan?" she asked, shutting the door softly behind him. Dylan's eyes swept over her room, took in the folder on her desk and the open suitcase on her bed.

"It's true then," he said quietly. "You're being sent somewhere by yourself."

"Well I don't know if I would call going with an entire team of S.H.I.E.L.D. backup going somewhere by myself." Stasia patted the space next to her on the bed and Dylan joined her there.

"I thought it was a rumor," he admitted, "because you're not supposed to be able to test into full agent status until you're eighteen."

"Yeah, well Talia and I have been a special case from the start of all of this," muttered Stasia. Dylan didn't respond, but it wasn't his usual silence. This silence was practically suffocating, although Stasia wasn't sure why. She glanced up at Dylan's face and was surprised to find it reflecting a mixture of sadness and frustration.

"What's the matter Dylan?" Dylan just shook his head. Anastasia crossed her arms and leveled a  _look_  at him. He sighed and shook his head.

"It's stupid," he muttered, sighing, "but you and Natalia getting to go on your final missions before you turn eighteen and before you've even been here a full year, well, I guess it makes me feel a little inferior."

Stasia's heart twisted at the forlorn look in Dylan's eyes. She hesitantly wove her fingers through his.

"You don't know the whole story," she told him gently. He met her jade-green eyes with question-filled brown ones. Anastasia pursed her lips and looked away.

"I told you last night that Natalia and I came to America from Russia." She glanced back up and Dylan nodded, waiting for her to go on. "Well, there was more to it than that. We didn't just leave Russia," Stasia stared down at their intertwined hands. "We  _escaped_  Russia."

She stopped speaking for a moment, a lump blocking her throat. Dylan gently turned her face upward so that she was looking at him. Once their eyes had met once more, he dropped his hand to where his other hand was holding Stasia's and he encased her hand in both of his, lending her some strength and letting her know that whatever it was, it was okay, he wouldn't care.

"Our parents were rebels," she finally said, "So suffice it to say that Talia and I have both had extensive training since before we could walk. S.H.I.E.L.D. really just finished a job that was mostly done." Stasia left out the part where Natalia was a secret weapon and their own mother turned on them. She didn't think that Dylan was quite ready to hear that yet and she wasn't sure that she was quite ready to share that with him yet anyway. At any rate, he seemed slightly mollified by the fact that she had been through just as much training as the rest of them, if not more.

"We're not prodigies or super-humans," Stasia told him, "We just came from…somewhere very different than here. You wouldn't believe what we would give to be more like the rest of you."

Dylan finally smiled and he squeezed Anastasia's hand. "I know. Like I said, it was stupid."

"Nah, I understand." Stasia grinned teasingly. "After all, what would Ethan say if your girlfriend got promoted before you without good reason?"

Dylan started at her choice of words. "Girlfriend?"

"If you want." Stasia shrugged casually, as if it was no big deal. She stood up and went over to her dresser to debate her clothes some more, leaving Dylan speechless on her bed. When she finally turned back around, he was still staring at her a little dazed and uncomprehending. He gave his head a little shake to clear it.

"I…okay," he finished lamely and Stasia grinned because she loved the fact that he was shy and didn't have the perfect words for every situation. Dylan smiled tentatively as well before standing and heading toward the door.

"I should probably leave you to pack," he said ruefully. "When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow morning." Dylan nodded slowly.

"Stop in to say goodbye before you go?"

Stasia paused in the sorting of her shirts to look up and smile at him. "Of course."

"Alright. See you later Stasia." Dylan gave a small wave of farewell before opening the door.

"See you, Dylan."

* * *

Natalia pushed her fork through the pasta she had gotten from the S.H.I.E.L.D. cafeteria making no move to eat any of it. Natasha was watching her out of the corner of her eye, not saying anything, but clear concern radiated out of her for the young trainee. Clint and Stasia finally joined them, carrying a hamburger and a taco respectively. Stasia took one look at her sister and came to the same conclusion that Natasha had: Natalia was thinking just a little too much about the upcoming mission. A gentle nudge to Talia's ribcage was all it took to draw her attention to Stasia and, more importantly, the conspiratorial grin that her sister was wearing. Natalia raised her eyebrows and Stasia nodded slightly. Clint and Natasha were watching their protégées a touch apprehensively, wondering what the conniving glint in their eyes could possibly mean this time. The silence that had blanketed their table was unusual, but not really unexpected after the news of this morning. They were all relieved when Stasia cleared her throat and began to speak, although Clint and Natasha's relief lasted only a split second.

"So, I saw something  _interesting_  this morning," began Stasia, a mischievous grin playing across her lips.

"Did you now?" quipped Clint, popping a French fry in to his mouth. Natasha raised her eyebrows at the girls from behind her coffee cup.

"And by interesting, she means very,  _very_ , against S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol," added Natalia, "not that the people in question ever follow S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol anyway."

Stasia smirked. Clint continued chowing down on his hamburger, oblivious to the implications that were simmering just below the girl's words. Natasha on the other hand, having been trained to assess a situation from age five, could read the implications just fine. She set her mug down on the table a bit more forcefully than necessary and narrowed her eyes at the twins.

"What did you see, Anastasia?"

"It sure looked like Clint leaving your room wearing the same clothes he was wearing when he saw me off yesterday," said Stasia, shooting Clint and Natasha an impish grin. A loud choking noise echoed through the cafeteria and heads whipped in their direction as Natasha pounded on Clint's back. The twins watched with wide eyes until Clint inhaled sharply, gasping for air.

"You okay there Hawkeye?" called someone jokingly. A few chuckles rippled around the room; they all knew that it would take more than a swallow the wrong way to take out S.H.I.E.L.D.'s finest agent. Clint waved a hand in their direction sarcastically and the general buzz of the dining hall resumed.

"What the  _hell_ , Stasia?"

"I definitely warned you," said the blonde calmly, taking a bite of her taco.

"You can't just spring stuff on me like that!"

Stasia rolled her eyes. "Please. It's not my fault you were too busy inhaling your burger to notice the implications in our words."

Natasha and Natalia simultaneously snorted into their cups and Clint glared at all three of them.

"You're avoiding the subject," sang Natalia, grinning childishly. Natasha dragged a hand through her hair and glanced at Clint with a look that clearly said this was all his fault. Clint just shrugged and went back to his hamburger.

"Yeah, you saw me." He looked at the girls like it was no big deal and took in their surprised looks. "What? This is not a new thing."

"It's not?" asked Stasia, her gaze slipping to Natasha. The older Russian sighed.

"Whenever one of us is hurt, neither of us likes to leave the other alone." She said in way of explanation.

"Nothing more?" pressed Natalia, scrutinizing her SO closely.

"Nothing," said Natasha. "Agent Barton and I are nothing more than partners."

The sincerity in Natasha's voice would have been hard to doubt, except that she  _was_  the Black Widow. Also, neither twin missed the ever so slight slump of Barton's shoulders at her words. Stasia and Talia exchanged a look and turned away, rolling their eyes.

_We'll get it out of them eventually._

Natalia set her fork down. "Well you two are obviously in denial. I think that we better get some sleep, so we'll just leave you to justify that denial to each other."

"Good night!" said Stasia pleasantly, shooting them one last smirk before following her sister out of the dining hall. Clint and Natasha's eyes tracked their progress until the twins were out of sight. Then the redhead turned and met her partner's sparkling eyes with a mischievous grin of her own.

"Oh, they have no idea."

* * *

Stasia was a light sleeper. It was a habit she had developed from five years on the run and it didn't seem like it was ever going to change. Sometimes she was grateful for it and other times…well, not so much. This was one of those times where she was both.

The scream woke her up in a flash. It took her barely a second to realize that the scream hadn't come from outside her room and it hadn't come from her, which left only one explanation.

It came from inside her head.

"Talia," she muttered, jumping out of bed immediately. Shoving her feet into some slippers, Stasia was out the door and down the hall to her sister's room in record time. She was about to bust open the door, but she heard the mutterings and she froze at what she was hearing.

_"No…no! What did you do to her?! Stasia no, please, don't do this! This isn't you! Stasia!"_

Stasia swallowed and forced herself to drop her hand from the doorknob. The last time Talia had been muttering things like that, she had all but shut down when Anastasia came in. Back then, Stasia hadn't had any other option. There hadn't been anyone else. But now there was. She turned and darted through the dark and silent halls to a room that she hadn't visited much, but was still very familiar to her. Three quick raps were all it took and less than five seconds later Natasha was standing in front of Stasia, frowning at the look of worry and desperation on the younger girl's face.

"Stasia? What-"

"It's Talia," Stasia cut Natasha off; there really wasn't time. "And I can't…someone else needs to go to her."

Natasha didn't say anything else; she pushed past Stasia and was flying down the hall before the latter finished speaking. Stasia sagged against the wall and caught her breath. Then she forced herself to walk slowly back to her room. There was nothing more for her to do now but try to go back to sleep.

* * *

Natasha didn't register most of what Stasia said after she heard "It's Talia." The redhead made it to her trainee's room in record time and swiped her special access card. Natalia was tangled in her sheets, struggling with an invisible enemy that only she could see. She was still crying out, tears pouring down her face as she choked out the words and Natasha suddenly understood why Stasia hadn't been able to come in.

"Stasia, why?" whimpered Natalia, all of the fight draining out of her in an instant. "Please come back to me, I know you're in there, please Stasia fight it,  _please_."

Natasha darted over to the side of the bed and gave Natalia a gently shake. "Talia, wake up."

Natalia didn't respond; she was far too deep in the clutches of her nightmare. Natasha was just about to shake her again, harder, when all the blood drained out of Natalia's face, leaving her frightfully pale.

"Stasia…no…please-" And then she screamed.

Natasha froze at the pure anguish that ripped through Natalia's teeth. It was more than the scream of a broken heart; it was the crying out of a shattered soul. Fresh tears poured down Natalia's pale face and as fast as she had frozen Natasha was moving again shaking Natalia, trying her hardest to pull her from the frightening world her subconscious had trapped her in.

"Natalia, please, wake up. It's not real, I promise, please, just wake up!" Natasha cried and finally emerald eyes met jade eyes as Natalia's eyelids flew open. She tensed up immediately and Natasha dropped her grip on the young girl as though she had burned her hands. Talia pushed herself into a sitting position and looked around the room with an expression similar to that of a caged animal. Natasha took a few steps back and allowed Natalia to get her bearings before speaking.

"Natalia?"

With no warning, Natalia dropped her head into her hands and her body was shaking with the sobs that she was trying to fight back. Natasha paused, not entirely sure what was right here, but eventually she went to the bed and pulled Natalia close, wrapped her arms around her and rocked her back and forth gently. It wasn't something that she had ever had done for her in her childhood and for a moment she had no idea where the impulse came from, but then it dawned on her. This was what Clint did whenever she was hurting.

"Shhh, it's okay, I've got you, you're fine," whispered Natasha, letting Talia bury her face into her shoulder, "Shhh, Маленький паук, shhh." ( _Little Spider)_

Natasha lost track of how long she sat there, just holding Natalia. Finally, after Talia's sobs had subsided and all was quiet, the younger girl turned so that she could see Natasha's eyes.

"Маленький паук?"

"It seemed appropriate," murmured Natasha with a smile. She pointed to herself and said, "Big Spider," she turned her finger so that it was pointing at Natalia, "Little Spider."

Natalia couldn't help but crack a watery smile, even though Natasha could clearly see the pain and suffering behind the jade-green eyes. Natalia didn't say a word about the nightmare and something in her eyes warned Natasha not to bring it up. She just wasn't ready to share it, just now.

Natasha was all too familiar with the feeling.

"I have a better idea," Natalia said softly. She pointed at Natasha, "Большая Сестра," ( _Big Sister)_  she turned her finger and pointed at herself, "Маленькая Сестра."  _(Little Sister)_

She didn't wait to see the frozen expression of uncertainty that had taken over Natasha's face; Natalia just laid her head back down against her much-more-than-a-mentor's shoulder. A yawn split the young Russian's face and Natasha subconsciously started rocking her again, humming a wordless melody.

Long after Natalia's eyes had closed and her breathing evened out, Natasha was still sitting on the bed, absentmindedly stroking Talia's soft blonde hair. She appeared to be the picture of calm and composure, but on the inside Natasha's heart and mind were having their most epic battle yet. Every bit of her training and knowledge was screaming at her that this was  _wrong_ ; that this was a sure way to get herself hurt, along with potentially a large number of other people. But looking down at Natalia's peacefully sleeping figure, Natasha couldn't help but wonder how this could be wrong when it felt so incredibly right. She could barely remember what she and Clint had done with their lives before the twins came along and pain suddenly flashed through her as the truth spiked her heart. Natasha stamped down on the reality of the situation hard, forcing it into a back corner of her mind as she curled up to guard Natalia from her nightmares.

"Good night, Маленькая Сестра," Natasha whispered quietly.

But for the first time in a long time, Natasha Romanoff had something to lose.

 


	19. A Lot More Action

**Chapter 19: A Little More Action**

"Did you pack your replacement tips? What about extra nocks? And a spare finger tab?"

"Yes, yes, and yes." Stasia tugged the zipper up on the case containing all of her archery equipment. "And before you ask, yes I have my string wax and Allen wrenches."

Clint nodded approvingly, but he didn't release any of the tension in his shoulders. Stasia bent over to zip up the suitcase that contained all of her clothes (and a few back up weapons), her blonde hair falling in a curtain around her face as she tried, unsuccessfully, to stave off further questioning by her SO.

"What about-"

"Yes, I have it, whatever it is, because I have everything." Stasia grinned and shook her head. "Honestly, Barton. You should know better than anyone that I can pack for missions-you're the one who taught me how after all!"

Clint tipped his head ever so slightly, conceding her point. "It's my job as your SO to worry. I have to worry as much as I can before I'm not your SO anymore."

Stasia paused for a moment, considering for the first time what this whole situation must feel like to Barton. She knew that she was the first agent that he had personally trained and that it was his entire reputation as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best agent that was on the line with this final mission. Anastasia also knew that there was a much deeper reason for Clint's worry, one that neither one of them was going to bring up, simply because they both knew the implications of it. Even with her relatively limited experience, Stasia knew that caring about the people you worked with in this business was a good way to die.

She also knew that not caring about them was a terrible way to live.

So instead of sighing and rolling her eyes like she might've a minute ago, Stasia leaned back and rested her weight on the balls of her feet and her calves, grinning up at her SO like the little schoolgirl that she never truly was.

"Alright then, worry away. Tell me, what else have I forgotten?"

"Oh, c'mere kid." Clint held his hands out to Stasia and pulled her to her feet, tugging her towards him. She let herself fall against his chest, abandoning all control of her muscles so that she flopped like jelly. She giggled as Clint dealt with the unexpected weight he now had to bear. The archer rolled his eyes but Stasia was relieved to see the tiniest fraction of tension ease out of his shoulders as he wrapped his arms firmly around her.

"I'm gonna miss you, Stasia," he mumbled, his chin resting on the top of her head. Stasia stilled, enjoying the feeling of utter safeness that she felt.

"It's not like I'm leaving forever, Clint."

"It sure feels like it," he whispered, trying to control the slight shake of his voice. "You're going to pass this mission with flying colors and then you'll be a full agent and we won't be spending time together anymore and –"

Stasia cut him off by pulling out the circle of his arms and spinning around, pinning him with  _the glare_ , the one that he had come to associate with Natasha, the one that she had apparently taught the twins how to do.

_Or maybe it's just a Russian thing._

Either way, the look on Stasia's face effectively silenced Clint, which was clearly what she had been after.

"You listen close now, Clinton Francis Barton." Clint winced when she brought out his full name, mentally making a note to kill Natasha later for telling the girls what it was. Stasia allowed herself a little smirk at his reaction before her face melted back into a serious mask.

"If you really think that I'm going to run off into the sunset the minute that I make full agent, then we need to get someone to whack you in the head, preferably Natasha, so that you can have some sense knocked back into you." Anastasia planted a hand on her hip and gazed at him, shaking her head at his stunned expression. "You should already know that the first thing  _we're_  going to do when I get back is order a ton of meat lovers pizza, sit on that stupid old purple couch that you refuse to take to the dump, and watch every movie with archery in it that we can get our hands on so that we can laugh at the crappy form of the actors. And after that, we'll both go on missions and when we're both back at base we'll train together, just like always. With Tasha and Talia too. None of that is going to change."

Clint stared at her wide-eyed for a minute, and then a smile crept across his face. "You're really going to let me order meat lovers pizza?"

Stasia sighed, but grinned all the same. "Yeah, I'm getting tired of the veggie supreme that the Nat's like to order all the time."

Clint's eyebrows quirked up questioningly. "What did you just call them?"

"The Nat's," said Stasia casually, reaching down to pick up her suitcase. "Natasha is your Nat, Natalia is my Nat, they're  _our_  Nat's."

Clint snorted and then doubled over, consumed by his laughter. Stasia watched him for the space of one heartbeat before she found herself joining in and pretty soon they were both rolling around on the floor, all thoughts of leaving forgotten.

When they finally recovered their senses the two of them were left lying on the floor smiling at each other. Clint was the first to push himself up and fight gravity to get to his feet before turning and helping Stasia up. Somberly, he watched as she swung her bow case onto her back and grasped the handle of her suitcase. The tension had returned to his shoulders, but a slight bulge in his pocked reminded him of something and made his face light up.

"I know what you forgot!" he declared. Stasia rolled her eyes, but humored him anyway.

"Oh really? And what's that?"

"C'mere." The archer beckoned to his protégée and Anastasia walked over so that she was standing in front of him. He motioned for her to drop her bow case. Once she had done so, Clint spun her around so that she was facing away from him. Gently, her SO began pulling his fingers through her hair, pulling, twisting, and tucking the smooth pieces into a complicated braid. Stasia smiled when she realized what he was doing and she waited patiently until he had finished. Clint reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of purple ribbon. He tied it in a bow at the bottom of Stasia's braid and then turned her around so that she was facing him again. He tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her head up to meet his eyes.

"Never shoot with your hair down," he softly reminded her of the one thing that she always forgot. Stasia smiled and Clint tried to ignore the glassy quality that her eyes had taken on, just as he was determinately ignoring the burning behind his own. Gently, he pushed her towards the door.

"C'mon, let's go meet the Nat's."

Stasia scooped up her luggage, hesitating just a second. "Actually, there's a quick detour I have to make…"

"This detour wouldn't happen to involve a certain junior agent, would it?" asked Clint suspiciously.

"As a matter of fact, it does." Stasia opened the door and glared at Clint again for good measure. "And I'll thank you to keep your distance from him. You already scared him out of his wits once."

"Good," muttered Clint, thinking that the kid had been lucky to make it out of S.H.I.E.L.D. with his body still anatomically correct. Stasia rolled her eyes.

"I'll see you at the parking lot."

"Y'know, I think there's some kind of rule about senior agents dating junior agents," Clint called teasingly after her. Stasia snorted loud enough for Barton to hear back in her room and just continued her path down the hall.

Clint watched the empty doorway long after his trainee was gone, the words of a Kenny Chesney song that had played on the radio in his truck this morning echoing in his head.

_There goes my life_

_There goes my future, my everything_

_I love you_

_Baby, good bye_

_There goes my life_

* * *

The only noise in Natalia's room was the slight rustling her clothes made as she tucked them into her duffel bag. If anyone had bothered to bug the room, they would've had no idea that there were in fact two people present. Natasha was sitting cross-legged on Talia's bed, her emerald eyes following the blonde trainee as she flitted between dresser and duffel and back again. Finally, Natalia pulled the zipper up, sealing her clothes in for the long journey to her mission location. Natasha unfolded herself gracefully and stood up. Reaching over to the bedside table, the redhead grasped the smooth leather of Natalia's thigh holsters and held them out to her young protégée. Natalia silently took the holsters and began strapping them on, the familiarity of the pre-mission ritual settling around her like a comfortable blanket. She ran her small hands over the cool metal of each gun that Natasha passed her, quickly checking their functionality before sliding them into place on either leg. She did the same with her knives, running a finger down the blade to make sure that they were nothing less than pristine. As Natalia bent to slip them into the slots along her inner thighs, Natasha uncharacteristically chose to break the silence.

"You need to talk about it Talia."

Natalia froze at her mentor's words before forcing herself to resume preparing to leave.

"I've never needed to before."

"You've never been about to leave on a mission where you need to be 100% in control and focused before," countered Natasha quietly.

"I can focus just fine," Natalia insisted, dragging a brush through her hair and tying it back into a ponytail.

"No you can't." Natasha's voice was flat and emotionless. "You can't focus like this. I should know; I've tried more times than was wise."

Natalia perched herself on the very edge of her mattress and turned her jade-green eyes up to meet Natasha's intense gaze. "I don't know if I can," she whispered, eyes brimming with fear that made Natasha's insides twist with anger, anger that there were people still breathing in this world that had made this young girl afraid of her own mind. Natasha knew the fear all too well, knew what it was to close her eyes and be terrified of what she would see. She too had refused to talk about the demons that had haunted her sleep, but Natasha was determined to keep Natalia from making any of the mistakes that she herself had made.

"I know that you can." Natasha winced a little at the cheesy line and hesitantly set her arm around Natalia. The young girl scooted a little closer and laid her head against Natasha's shoulder.

"How, Tasha?" The words were too quiet for normal ears to hear and Natalia barely choked them out. The tears that had threatened when Natasha first spoke were spilling out, cascading down Natalia's cheeks. Natasha subconsciously rubbed her hand in a soothing circle on Talia's arm, struggling to find the right words.

"You can't do everything," she finally said. "I won't tell you that lie. But you show us every day that you are so strong and if you think that we can't see the courage it's taken you to get this far with us, well, you're wrong. You care so much about Stasia and Clint…and me," she added as an afterthought. "And we all care right back. That's how I know that you can do this. Because you are strong, and courageous, and you have people who will always take care of you."

Natalia was silent for a moment. "That was cheesy as hell."

"I know." A brief smile passed over Natasha's face before she was taken over by a sigh. "Just talk to me, Natalia. That's all you have to do."

"How did you know to come to me last night?" The change in subject was sudden, and for a moment Natasha thought that Natalia was avoiding talking about the nightmare. She looked down and searched Natalia's jade eyes, looking for a barrier, any sign that she was going to shut down and stop talking, but she found none. Natalia waited patiently for Natasha to catch up and realize why she was asking. Natasha cocked her head to the side, and then a light bulb clicked on.

"Anastasia." Natalia nodded, as if she had already known that.

_Maybe she did._

"What did she say to you?"

"She said you needed someone…" Natasha wracked her brain; she hadn't exactly paid close attention to Stasia's words last night. "…and that it couldn't be her."

Natalia nodded again, a flash of pain crossing her face. "I don't have this nightmare very often; it usually happens when I'm splitting off from Stasia for something." Natalia swallowed and Natasha tightened her grip around the young girl's shoulders, trying to will some strength to flow into her.

"The last time it happened, Stasia was late coming home," whispered Natalia. "I had gone to bed because I had to get up early the next day. When Stasia woke me up, I was still trapped in the nightmare. I…I was afraid of her and…I reacted badly."

Talia took a steadying breath. Natasha waited quietly, not interrupting, letting Natalia move forward at her own pace. The red head knew better than to try and rush something like this.

"Even then I always slept with a knife within easy reach." Terror and self-hate mingled across Natalia's face. The tears were coming thicker and faster now and it was all she could do to speak, but she seemed determined to finish what she had started. "You've seen the scar on her left shoulder?"

Natasha nodded and then said, "Yes," since Natalia wouldn't look her in the eye.

"I attacked her. My own sister, and  _I attacked her_." Natalia's voice broke to pieces on the last word and she let her head fall forward into her arms. She rocked back and forth and Natasha, still not sure what to do in times like this, held the distraught girl as best she could. They sat there, Natasha muttering soothing words and Natalia sobbing out her disgust with herself. Finally, the latter sat up, composed enough to keep talking.

"In the nightmare, we were back in Russia. Our mother had found us and forced us to go back, but, true to form, I wasn't cooperating." Natalia rubbed at her left eye and shook her head. "I hadn't seen Stasia since our mother captured us, but then they brought her out. She looked completely fine, except…" Natalia forced back a sob, pressing her fist against her mouth. "She was looking at me and all I could see in her eyes was hate. Complete and utter  _hatred_. She looked at me like I was the worst thing in the world, like all of our problems were my fault." A fresh wave of tears overcame Natalia and Natasha finally reached over and grabbed the box of tissues from the bedside table, passing them to Talia. She took them gratefully, blew her nose, and rubbed at her eyes and cheeks.

"She started to attack me. I could hear our mother's voice in the background saying that they had reprogrammed her. Like her own daughter was a machine, a tool, a means to an end." Talia shook her head in disgust. "They told me that all I had to do was cooperate and they would put her back to normal, but I  _couldn't_. I couldn't do what they wanted and I couldn't save her." Natalia's chin dropped against her chest. "I'm a terrible sister."

"No you're not." Natasha spoke for the first time since Natalia had started her story. She pulled her arm away from Natalia's shoulders and wrapped both of her slender hands around Natalia's small, cold ones. Natasha gazed intently at Talia's face until the latter looked up and met her stare.

"It was a nightmare," said Natasha firmly, trying to force Natalia to believe her words by sheer willpower, "and I'm not saying that makes it any less real, because I know that it doesn't. Usually, it makes it more so. But it didn't happen and down the hall in a room almost identical to this one, is a girl preparing for a mission just like you are now. And that girl loves you more than you will ever understand. I know that you know that. You can't always outrun your nightmares, Маленький паук, but you can choose better."

"Choose better?" echoed Natalia, wrinkling her nose in confusion. Natasha nodded.

"You can choose to let go of the pain that they leave you with, that pain that feels like it's going to weight you down forever. You can choose to love instead of hurt and every time you make that choice, it's like reaffirming that you are  _not_  the girl in your nightmares. You are  _better_. So choose better."

"It can't be that easy," objected Talia. Natasha shook her head and a smile hinted at the corners of her mouth.

"I said that that was the solution. I never said that it would be easy."

Natalia slowly nodded, the flood of tears finally starting to dry up. She pushed up off the bed and bent down to scoop up her bags. When she stood back up, she cocked her head to the side and look at Natasha questioningly.

"What did you choose?"

Natasha's face was expressionless and she didn't reply at first. Her nostrils flared as her breath hissed out of her nose until finally she said, "I chose to live."

Natalia looked like she wanted to ask more, but something in Natasha's expression told her that the older woman was just about at her touchy-feely limit for the day. So the blonde just nodded and jerked her head toward the door.

"Well c'mon then. Let's go live better."

* * *

"And you're sure that you didn't forget anything?" Clint asked for the umpteenth time. Natalia and Anastasia both sighed and rolled their eyes.

"Yes," said Stasia, exasperated. "We have everything we could possibly need."

"Of course you do." Natasha cut in smoothly before Clint could launch another volley of questions. The man in question glowered at her for a moment, but he bit his tongue and smiled at the twins.

"We're going to miss you."

"What exactly are we supposed to do now that we won't be keeping you two in line all day?" asked Natasha with a grin. Stasia snorted and Natalia raised an eyebrow in a perfect imitation of her SO.

" _You_ kept  _us_  in line? I don't think so." They all chuckled and pretended that they couldn't see or feel the worry and tension that Natasha and Clint were hiding under their lighthearted façade.

"Just remember, we have to deal with Coulson while we're on our missions, so whatever you do, try not to make him  _too_  mad," quipped Stasia, glancing down at her watch. Clint rolled his eyes and Natasha heaved a dramatic sigh.

"You guys take all the fun out of free time," she muttered jokingly. Natalia smirked, and then glanced over Natasha and Clint's shoulders and her face fell.

"Time's up," she said quietly. The other three followed her gaze and they too caught sight of the two agents walking toward them, one man, a little shorter with a receding hairline and a crisp suit, and one woman, just taller than average, brown hair tied back in a bun and dressed in a standard S.H.I.E.L.D. action suit.

"Barton, Romanoff," said Maria Hill, nodding to each of the agents as she and Coulson came to a stop beside the small team. Clint and Natasha merely nodded in return, both trying to fight the queasy feeling they were getting. They never would have believed it six or seven months ago, that they would be standing here, sick to their stomachs at the thought of two young girls that they themselves had trained being sent out on their final test missions.

Yet, here they were.

"Are you ready?" Coulson directed his question at the twins, but his eyes slid over to his favorite agents almost as soon as he had finished speaking. Natasha and Clint were pointedly watching Natalia and Anastasia and refrained from answering.

"As ready as we'll ever be," replied Talia, answering for both of them. Coulson and Hill both nodded, Coulson smiling proudly.

"Well then, let's get to it." Maria nodded to the two vehicles behind where they were standing. "I assume you know who gets which?"

The twins nodded. They knew it was their cue to leave, but first they walked over to Clint and Natasha one last time. Stasia was hugging Clint before he could protest (if he had wanted to) and Natalia was doing the same with Natasha. A quick embrace and they switched, trying to convey all the reassurance and thanks that they possible could in a single touch. They both pulled back and pretended not to see the tears that were threatening at the corners of Clint's eyes or the way that Natasha's face had dropped into a completely stoic mask, the way it did when she was close to losing control. Finally, the girls turned and embraced each other, each tightly squeezing the other.

"Keep in touch," whispered Natalia in Stasia's ear. Stasia gave a small smile.

"Always do," she whispered back. They stepped away from each other and the four adults watched as the faces of the two sixteen year olds clicked into business mode. All trace of worry, nerves, and fear vanished, replaced by a cool confidence that could easily be unnerving in the right setting. Such a transition was quite a feat, especially for rookie agents like themselves.

It was a trick that they had learned from Natasha.

Without further ado, the young Russian's spun on their heels and strode away. Anastasia slid into the nondescript black SUV, not looking back once. The minute the door shut, the car sped off, destined for who-knows-where. Natalia calmly ascended the stairs that led to the door of the private jet she was taking to her mission location. She paused at the top of the steps and took one last deep breath of fresh air and then she was gone, disappeared into the plane.

She didn't look back either.

Clint, Natasha, Coulson, and Hill all watched at the jet revved up and sped off down the runway until it became merely a speck in the blue sky. Clint stared at the empty space for a long while before he finally spoke.

"You know, I'm kind proud," he said quietly, sneaking a glance at his partner. Coulson's eyes flicked toward the best agent he had ever trained and a sad smile crossed his face.

"I know what you mean," muttered the handler, avoiding Clint's questioning gaze. Natasha was staring at the ground and Clint knew that she felt the same thing that he did, like they were suddenly empty, as if something wasn't quite right in the natural chemistry of the air around them. Hill, who was nodding approvingly, seemed to have no such qualms. She did, however, level a glare at Clint and Natasha.

"I don't want to see either of your faces until the two of them get back unless you need to report to me for a mission, understood?"

The two top agents muttered their assent and Maria nodded again.

"The last thing I need is the new agents seeing you two moping around because your trainees finally left the nest. So don't. Phil, I'll be in my office if you need me." She strode away without another sound. They all watched her go, Clint and Natasha not entirely sure what to do with themselves and Coulson merely waiting for her to be out of earshot. As soon as she was far enough away, he rounded on them as well.

"I don't want to see you either," he told them. Clint started to protest, but Coulson stopped him with a single look. "Barton, you are no good to me right now and you know it. I will not send either of you on a mission when I know that your focus is somewhere else."

"You know that we don't let our emotions affect us in the field, Coulson." Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, an eerie reflection of Natalia's earlier expression. Coulson snorted and shook his head.

"Well, maybe you don't Natasha. But you want to remind me how you ended up here?" Natasha sort of inclined her head, giving him some credit.

"Fine," she said, "I'll give you that one. Barton can be pretty stupid in the field now and then, but he gets the job done. We both do. You can't pull us out of the field right now Coulson, not when we really need something to distract us."

"Like hell I can't." Coulson shook his head. "You need to find some other distraction. You're both on mandatory leave until Anastasia and Natalia return. I don't care if you go to your apartments, the park, or the damn movies.  _Just_   _get the hell out._ "

An angry breath hissed out of Natasha's nostrils and Clint was wearing his serial killer face, but they both knew there was nothing they could do to change their handler's mind. Both pursing their lips, they turned away from Coulson and strode toward the building.

"And if you decide to cause trouble, I  _will_  send someone to subdue you," called Coulson as an afterthought. Neither agent broke stride, but Natasha broke into a grin and looked over at Clint.

"What's that look for?" asked the archer, a smile playing on his own lips.

"Maybe we should cause some trouble," said Natasha, reaching for the door handle, "It's been ages since I've seen Melinda."

Clint snorted loudly and followed Natasha inside. Coulson groaned and ran a hand over his face.

"Those girls have to be okay," he muttered to the empty air, "They just have to."

* * *

An hour later found the two super spies in Clint's apartment. Natasha was sitting on the bed, gently toweling off her hair while Clint stared out the window. Strands of freshly cleaned red hair fell in waves, framing Natasha's face. She was staring at the floor, but when Clint turned around she raised her gaze and asked him something that she normally never would. It was so irrational and Clint couldn't truthfully give her the answer that she wanted. But she asked anyway.

"Tell me they'll be alright, Clint."

He held her eyes for a moment. Slowly, he moved so that he was sitting next to her on the bed and he laced their fingers together, covering her cold, slender hand with is rough, warm one. He looked up and smiled at her, as best as he could right now.

"Of course they'll be alright. We trained them after all."

 


	20. Interlude: Nats, Netflix, and Nightmares

**A/N: So this is an idea that I kind of stole from another story I follow (idea is formatting-wise, not content-wise). The story is called** **_Reliant_ ** **and it's by** **_CuppaTea13 on fanfiction.net_ ** **, so if you like Clintasha and long stories, that's definitely a good one to check out:) Anyway, in that story, the author occasionally deviates from the plot to include 'interludes'. The interludes fill little plot holes and/or are just extras for the story and are mostly used when the author is struggling with the main plot or is too busy to write a full chapter.**

**At any rate, they're going to serve mostly the same purpose here. So this is an interlude; any commentary is still appreciated and if there's any side bit that you'd like to see made into an interlude, feel free to drop me a line!**

**Also note that in this interlude, we assume that Natasha and Natalia resent being collectively referred to as 'the Nat's'. I haven't really introduced that in the main plot line, so I thought that I would mention it.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Clint was frowning, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He would have sworn up and down that he had looked  _everywhere_. He had checked the mess hall, the training room, the extra training room, Coulson's office, their dorm rooms; he had even reluctantly gone and checked Dylan's room. It seemed that the twins had apparently vanished into thin air. Gritting his teeth, Clint pushed his way down to the hall where his dorm room was. It was the one place that he hadn't looked for the girls, but he wasn't really expecting to find them there.

He should really have learned by now to change his expectations.

The door swung open after he keyed in his passcode and Clint stepped inside. A slight rustling reached his ears before his eyes had swept the room and he had his pistol halfway out of its holster before he saw the two blondes sitting on his bed, eyes wide with feigned innocence. Clint relaxed and dropped the gun, but his face quickly turned into a glare.

"Where have you two  _been_? I've been looking for you for an hour!"

"Sorry Clint," muttered Stasia, eyes downcast.

"We  _were_  in the training room for a while, but some idiots had the nerve to tell us we were only in training because you guys thought we were 'cute'." Natalia smirked darkly. "We called Medical, but we thought it would be more prudent for us to leave before they got there."

"Coulson's gonna kill you." Clint shook his head, but smiled nonetheless. He suddenly frowned again. "How did you even get in here anyway?"

"Uhh…you gave me the code a while back…" Stasia avoided looking at her SO; Clint could smell a lie that big a mile away.

"No I didn't." He folded his arms and took a few steps forward. "Tasha gave it to you, didn't she?"

"Maybe…"

"Dammit, Tasha." Clint groaned and ran a hand over his face.

"While we're on the subject," Natalia grinned mischievously at her sister, "Would you care to explain why Natasha has the access code to your room?"

"No I wouldn't," said Clint shortly, still mentally cussing out his partner, not failing to notice her continued absence. He sent a sidelong glance at his trainee, the start of a plan for payback starting to form in his mind. "Speaking of which, where is the other Nat?"

Stasia gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth, glaring daggers at Clint. Natalia frowned as though she had heard wrong.

"The other what?"

"The other Nat." Clint couldn't contain his gleeful grin now, almost all of his earlier annoyance gone, replaced by the joy of revenge and the slightly terrified look on Stasia's face. Natalia spun around and fixed her sister with a  _look_ , eyes narrowing at Stasia's guilty expression.

"What did you do?" hissed Talia.

"Absolutely nothing." Clint was impressed; Stasia had obviously been paying attention to his and Natasha's lessons. She mixed just the right amount of eye contact and looking away and her voice never wavered. She still had a couple of tells, like the way that her left ear twitched,  _but we can work on that,_  thought Clint. Natalia, on the other hand, wasn't fooled.

"I know when you're lying to me Stasia. What did you do?"

"I didn't  _do_  anything," insisted Stasia, scooting back a few inches on the bed. Natalia shifted into an almost predatory stance and she crossed back over, jumping up onto the mattress. Anastasia leaned back as her sister invaded her personal space.

"One more try," whispered Natalia. Anastasia felt the cool metal of a knife blade press gently against her leg. She knew that Talia would never hurt her seriously, but she wouldn't put it past her sister to give her a surface wound and her eyes widened. "What did you do Anastasia?"

Stasia swallowed and pressed her lips together. She kept her face blank and her body still, absolutely determined not to say anything. From the corner of her eye she saw a movement, but didn't put any stock in it until-

"What are you three doing now?"

"Oh, hey Nat." Clint grinned up at his partner, who was leaning against the doorframe, and shoved another handful of popcorn from the tin that he kept in his room into his mouth.

"Hi Tasha," said the twins in unison, neither one breaking their eye contact. Natasha took in the situation warily, eyes finally settling on Clint and his popcorn. He smirked, eyes sparkling, and Natasha just  _knew_  that he had set this up somehow. Sighing, and giving up on any hope of training this evening, Natasha settled down on the floor next to him and took a handful of the popcorn that he offered her.

"What did you do?" she whispered to him, watching the twins on the bed. She could see the glint from Natalia's knife, but she knew that Talia would never be able to hurt Stasia-not of her own free will anyway. Clint's smirk faded a little and Natasha was immediately suspicious.

"Nothing…" said Clint cautiously. Natasha narrowed her eyes at him and suddenly they found themselves in a situation very similar to the one happening on the bed. Natasha was much less hesitant to pull out her knife and Clint was more than accustomed to the feeling of her insanely sharp blades pressed against the various places of his body. This time, he could feel the edge biting into his left shoulder and he tensed with anger. That was his draw shoulder; she should know better than to threaten it. Then again, it was probably a good way to ensure that Clint would tell her what she wanted to know. He gulped.  _Be strong Barton_ , he thought. Stasia was holding up just fine in the face of interrogation and so could he, right?

_Yeah, well, Stasia isn't facing Natasha. Screw this._

"I may or may not have referred to you and Natalia collectively as the Nat's and sort of framed Stasia for it, even though  _technically_ she's the one who started it." Clint squeezed his eyes shut in fearful anticipation. He relaxed when he felt the blade leave his shoulder, only to jump immediately after when he felt it go whooshing by his ear and embed itself in the wall behind him.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "That's my wall!"

"идиот."  _(idiot)_  Natasha scowled. Up on the bed, both twins had turned to their mentors. Natalia was grinning and Stasia looked relieved that the pressure was off of her.

"You're paying for that repair," muttered Clint. Natasha responded by shooting him another glare and walking over to his little TV, snatching the remote, and joining the girls on the bed. Clint rolled his eyes, but breathed a little easier to be walking away with no injury. He too scrambled up onto his bed, surprised that they could all fit comfortably. Natalia was curled up with her head leaning on Natasha's shoulder. Stasia was lying with her head in Talia's lap and her legs across Barton's. Clint scooted over so that his arm reached across Natalia's shoulders and just barely brushed Natasha's arm. The twins exchanged a grin, but a swift look from Natasha silenced any comments they were planning to make. The redhead silently scrolled through Clint's Netflix queue, ignoring the noises of interest coming from the other three, obviously set on something specific. When she finally made a selection she hit play too quickly for either twin to see the movie title, but Clint groaned and leaned his head back against the wooden headboard.

"Again, Tasha? We watch this  _every time_."

"I don't think the twins have seen it," replied Natasha innocently. The girls' heads both swung to the screen as the title popped up.

"Stalingrad?" questioned Natalia.

"Stalingrad?" echoed Stasia.

"Сталинград,"  _(Stalingrad)_  corrected Natasha, shooting a triumphant smile at Clint, who rolled his eyes but gave in grudgingly. "It's Russian." "Cool," said the twins, each snuggling closer to the two senior agents as the opening credits rolled across the screen. Clint and Natasha exchanged a glance over the girls' heads, both wondering what in the world they had done to deserve everything that they had right here.

* * *

By the time the end credits were scrolling up the screen, the bedcovers were littered with stray pieces of popcorn, mostly thanks to Clint and Stasia, who had been throwing the kernels back and forth for each other to catch in their mouths. A tiny bit of the blame lay with Natasha and Natalia for occasionally snatching the popcorn out of mid-air before it could reach its intended target, usually earning them a light smack and glare from the other two. The twins were both asleep and Clint and Natasha weren't far behind them, but both senior agents knew it was technically against regulation for the girls to stay the night there. Sighing, they both pushed themselves up and gently shook the girls awake.

"Talia," murmured Natasha, brushing a few stray hairs from the young girls face in a gentle caress, "You need to get up ребенок."  _(child)_

"Stasia," said Clint, his voice rough with sleep, "time to go kiddo."

Their eyes fluttered, but both girls were still pretty out of it and they spoke without thinking.

"Папа?"  _(Papa?)_ muttered Stasia, looking at Clint but not quite seeing him. Clint paused for a second, shocked, and then a wistful smile wove its way across his face.

"мама?"  _(Mama?)_  Natalia's voice was a bit clearer, but her tone said that something about this situation was wrong, like her mother wouldn't be the one to wake her gently. Natasha froze, her hand still resting on Talia's cheek. Clint watched her carefully, but she didn't seem to be panicking or suffering a flashback, so he relaxed a little. Smiling at his partner, he felt his heart twist unexpectedly.

"Kinda makes me wish…" he trailed off when Natasha raised her eyes to meet his gaze. She smiled softly and glanced back down, finishing his sentence in her head.

_Kinda makes me wish we could have our own kids._

"We don't need to get what we already have, Barton," she replied, ever so softly. Clint followed her gaze down to the twins, surprised to see Natasha showing so much emotion and caring. In the short amount of time that the two SO's had been talking, Natalia and Anastasia had both fallen back into their slumber and Clint already knew that they weren't going to try and wake them up again, because really, when had they ever given a damn about protocol? So he didn't bother trying to; he just joined his partner in carefully lifting and tucking the heavy comforter around the girls before the two of them slid back in and curled up with their trainees in between them. Soon only the sound of breathing filled the room as Clint and Natasha both consented to slip into unconsciousness, releasing a high level of trust to both the twins, one they had only ever given to each other, and to Phil. It took a lot for them to make themselves so vulnerable to any one other than each other.

The twins had no idea the prize that they had just earned.

* * *

Natalia awoke to a subtle shaking. It was like the whole bed was quaking, and for a moment she was very confused. Then the previous evening came rushing back to her and she remembered where she was. Looking to her left, she realized what it was that had woken her. Natasha was trembling in her sleep, her face twisted in pain. Before Natalia could reach over and wake her, Natasha let out a small shriek and Clint sat bolt upright, hand on his gun before he too realized what was going on. Stasia turned with concerned eyes as her SO jumped out of his side of the bed and darted quickly over to where Natasha was held in the throes of her own mind. The two girls had racing hearts and panic in their eyes, but Clint was cool, and collected. Natalia exchanged a glance with her sister.

_How often has he had to do this to react so calmly?_

_Too many,_ decided Stasia, turning anxiously back to the two senior agents.

"Tasha," Clint said quietly. When she didn't respond, he repeated her name, a little louder. "Tasha!"

Her eyes snapped open, but they weren't her eyes for the first few seconds. Talia's breath caught when she sighted the eyes that both Clint and Natasha had described as belonging not to Natasha, but to Natalia Alianovna. Clint held up his hands to show that he was unarmed and the twins quickly followed suit. They all held their breath until Natasha sagged back against her pillows. With a pointed look from the archer, the twins scooted over so that Clint could slide in next to Natasha, but the redhead pushed him off and swung out of the bed. She shot one last inscrutable look at the threesome, clearly trying to avoid the confused pain in Clint's face and any eye contact with the twins at all, before she took off, moving quickly out into the hallways to some unknown location. Natalia stared after her for a moment before turning to look at Clint.

"Why'd she leave?"

Clint just shook his head. "She doesn't like it when other people see her in what she considers moments of weakness. She's usually okay when I'm there, but it's hard with anyone else. Even you guys."

"Well that doesn't fly," said Natalia matter-of-factly. Stasia nodded her agreement. Clint looked between the two of them before also nodding his assent. He might not usually chase after Natasha, but tonight would be a night where he wasn't going to let her try (and fail) to cope by herself.

"I'll call Coulson in case she goes to him," he said, "Stasia, you go check her room through the vents. Be back here in three minutes." Stasia scrambled out of bed and up through the opening in Clint's ceiling as her SO whipped out his phone and hit the number one speed dial.

"Coulson? Yeah, I know it's early, sorry about that, but Natasha just ran out of here…she had a nightmare…yeah, will you just let me know if she comes to you? Thanks, Phil. Yeah, sure I'll make sure to let you know if we find her. Thanks, yep, g'night." Clint hung up the phone and shook his head at Natalia. "She didn't go to Phil."

There was a slight scuffling overhead and Anastasia dropped back into the room. "She's not in her quarters either." "

Where would she go?" exclaimed Natalia, exasperated. Clint paused and tilted his head to the side.

"Well, there is one place," he said, looking at Stasia. "Do you remember-"

"-the place that you showed me the other day?" Stasia finished with a slight frown. "Yeah, but you said Natasha didn't know about that."

"She doesn't know…about  _that_  one."

"There's more than one?" asked Stasia, surprised. Clint nodded, grinning.

"The Triskellion is a big place. And I get bored a lot. Plus, once the junior agents find them, they become practically useless."

"Okay, so this place," interjected Natalia, "Where is it?"

"Follow me," said Clint, reaching up and removing the air vent cover that Stasia had just replaced. Natalia suppressed a groan, reminding herself that Natasha needed them. Stasia flashed a quick grin before resuming her somber expression and swinging up into the vent after her SO.

.

.

.

Clint led them down a twisting, winding path of air vents over the sleeping quarters for the junior and senior agents, past the elevator shaft, over Coulson's office, and finally a sharp right turn before they reached what looked like a dead end. Natalia made a frustrated noise but Clint merely grinned as he fiddled with the seam between two of the vent panels. They finally gave way and revealed a ladder, which Clint promptly slid into place on the wall in front of them. Natalia got an  _ohhhhh_ look on her face and Barton and Stasia, who had clearly seen her SO do this before, smirked at her before beginning the climb up the ladder. When they reached the top, they tumbled into a huge pile of purple and gray blankets and pillows. And there, lying right in the middle of the whole nest, was a familiar looking redhead. She had her hand on her gun and was staring at the top of the ladder, but it relaxed away from the weapon when she saw who it was.

"What are you guys doing here?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice from trembling and trying to hide her tear-stained cheeks.

"What did you think this was, a one-sided relationship?" Stasia sounded a tiny bit insulted.

"Yeah, do you think that you only get to comfort us, not the other way around?" Natalia crawled over to her SO and snuggled up against her one side, letting Stasia press against the other. Clint came over the top of the ladder and smiled at the sight of the three of them all curled up.

"C'mon, Nat," he said softly, "you know us better than that." Clint scooted over and settled down cross-legged, lifting Natasha's head into his lap so that he could stroke her hair soothingly, just the way that she liked him to. Fresh tears formed at the corners of Natasha's eyes and the twins wrapped their arms around her from either side.

"Thank you," whispered Natasha, just barely managing to choke out the words.

"Anytime," whispered Anastasia.

"Always," corrected Natalia. A huge yawn split Natasha's face and the twins couldn't help the contagious effect. All three of them closed their eyes and one by one, they let sleep reclaim them. Only Clint kept his eyes open, still stroking Natasha's hair, keeping watch over all of his girls for the remainder of the night.

 


	21. 'Cause When It's All Said And Done

**Chapter 20: 'Cause When It's All Said And Done**

Natalia was sick of Italy. Of course, you'd never know it by the way she bit into another calzone, all smiles under her floppy sun hat and black sunglasses. She was wearing a sundress that was the color everyone thought the ocean was, even though the ocean was nowhere near that particular shade of blue. The plaza that she was sitting in was the same one that she had been coming to every day since she had arrived. It had been, despite all of Coulson's reassurances that it would be a quick in and out, almost a week.

_At least I speak rudimentary Italian,_  thought Talia glumly. She couldn't imagine being in a place where she didn't know the language, much less running a mission in one. Making a mental note to ask Tasha how that worked when she got back, Natalia went back to scanning the square.

Her mission was simple surveillance and retrieval. It was better than she had initially expected after all the simulations they had run involving firefights and explosions. This was  _easy_ , mused Natalia, and startlingly so, compared to the stunts Barton and Romanoff had drilled them in. Of course, that was Barton and Romanoff and if there was one thing that Natalia had learned from her time at S.H.I.E.L.D. it was that nothing the two top spies did could be counted as normal. Then again, maybe that was the point. After all, if the practice was harder than the actual test, then the test would be a breeze.

_It certainly has been so far_. Natalia let out the barest of sighs, resisting the urge to "talk" to Stasia. They had agreed that they should at least try to go along with S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol for these solo missions, and that meant complete radio silence, even on the mental front. Then again, they were both trained by Barton and Romanoff, which meant that neither twin was above bending the protocol at specified times, just to make sure that the other was okay. Unfortunately for Natalia, the next check-in wasn't for several hours. Forcing herself not to sigh so that she wouldn't attract any more attention (her amazingly pale skin took care of that in a country where everyone was somehow tan), Talia swirled her iced coffee and sipped the half-empty drink.

_"Agent Silivanov, you got eyes on anything?"_ Coulson's familiar voice crackled over her comms and Natalia permitted herself another small smile-and an eye roll.

"Don't you think that would have warranted me reporting in, Coulson?" Not for the first time, Natalia silently thanked Natasha for teaching her how to talk on comms without advertising the fact that you were wired, despite Natalia's objections that she didn't really need to know that. Unsurprisingly, Natasha had both ignored Natalia and been right.

_"Seems like Natasha passed on a little more than just her knowledge of being an agent,"_ muttered Coulson and Natalia could practically see the scowl on his face.  _"I was just checking in."_

"I know," muttered Natalia. "The target is not on the premises as of yet, just like every other day this week."

_"Just keep waiting-our informant is positive that he'll be there and I have good reason to trust her information."_

Natalia didn't bother responding to that. She had been waiting at this same café every day, watching for her target _,_  Masaccio Acerbi. At their best guess, he was an Italian arms dealer; however, they conveniently had no concrete evidence against him. The one piece of concrete evidence that they  _did_  have was a tip off from one of Coulson's many sources that Acerbi was in possession of a box that S.H.I.E.L.D. had been keeping tabs on. The snag on the whole thing was that S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't have Acerbi's address and the Italian government wasn't exactly being cooperative. The S.H.I.E.L.D. tech department had hackers working on the problem, but with the incredibly high level of security that had to be broken down, there was no way to tell how long that would take.

So there Natalia was; a ready-made solution. A different informant had commented to Coulson that Acerbi particularly liked the Paninis at this café and that led to the brilliant idea that had resulted in Natalia's mission. All she had to do was wait until Acerbi showed up, then follow him home and record his address so that a team would be able to get in and retrieve the box for S.H.I.E.L.D.

_Of course,_ thought Natalia,  _that only works if Acerbi_ actually _makes an appearance at some point._

She ran her tongue over her teeth and tried to avoid too much direct sunlight; training would be hell with a sunburn and there was no way Romanoff would let her off because of it.

_Then again, depending on how long I'm gone, Tasha might wreck enough havoc to land herself paperwork duty._

Natalia smirked; her SO had been put on paperwork more times than she could count. Of course, the number of times she had actually done the paperwork could be counted on one hand.

_Wonder what she and Barton are up to right about now..._

* * *

"Are you sure this old piece of junk can make it to the cabin?" Natasha pretended to eye Clint's truck doubtfully, earning her a glare from her partner.

"I thought we agreed that you would bash my truck after that trip to Maine," grumbled Clint. He tossed his bow case and their black duffels into the bed of the faded red pickup.

"Yeah, we did-" Natasha cut off when her phone rang, echoing out the words to He Didn't Have To Be by Brad Paisley. Both agents frowned in the direction of her pocket.

"Isn't that Coulson's ringtone?" asked Clint as the redhead pulled out the S.H.I.E.L.D. issued-device. Natasha pursed her lips and nodded.

"I thought that he was supposed to be pretending we don't exist." Natasha nodded again. Neither one of them voiced what they were both thinking: the only reason he would call them now was if something was wrong. Natasha flipped open the phone.

"Romanoff."

_"I need you to come in Natasha."_ Coulson's voice was so stressed and tense that Natasha couldn't bring herself to answer in a snarky tone.

"What happened to mandatory leave?"

_"Extenuating circumstances. Fury wants you on this mission."_

Natasha's eyebrows rose. It wasn't totally unusual for Fury to call them in personally, but normally they got some heads up if he was thinking about putting them on something special. She glanced at Clint who was watching, waiting for he to finish and fill him in.

"We'll be there in twenty," she told Coulson.

_"Not Barton. Fury only wants you on this one."_

Natasha frowned. "I don't know if that's a good idea Coulson, given the current circumstances..." Coulson should understand that she didn't want to leave Barton alone whole the twins were gone; God only knows how he would drive himself insane.

_"Bring him to HQ. I'll have to keep an eye on him until you get back. We need you on this one."_

Natasha didn't like it, but it looked like she didn't have much of a choice. "Fine. We're on our way." She snapped the phone shut without waiting for Coulson's reply.

"Mission?" asked Clint, an amused glint in his eye. "Knew they wouldn't be able to follow through with keeping us on the bench." His face fell when Natasha hesitated. "It's a mission for you, isn't it?" he said with a sigh.

"Yeah," said Natasha. "But Coulson says you're allowed back on base since I'm leaving."

"When are you two going to learn that I can take care of myself?" muttered Clint, rolling his eyes.

"When you prove it to us," retorted Natasha. She eyed the bags in the back of the truck a little wistfully. "So much for a couple days at the cabin."

"Yeah." A sudden grin covered Clint's face. "What do you think the girls would if they knew where we were planning to go?"

"Probably blow it out of proportion." Natasha sighed and opened up the passenger side door. "That's what they seem to do with everything else we do."

Clint eyed her closely and paused for just half a second too long before eliciting his usual laugh. "Yeah probably." He slid into the driver's seat and the engine roared to life. "Guess we better head on back."

"I guess." Natasha cast a glance toward the road that would've taken them to their cabin.

_Whatever Coulson and Fury have for me better be a matter of national security, or Coulson's going to have a 1962 Chevy Corvette with four flat tires._

* * *

Stasia had reached the point where she would kill for a pair of sneakers. Heck, she would even go for a pair of flats. Anything other than the high heel contraptions she was holding. She heaved a sigh and began the laborious process of lacing up the ridiculous footwear that S.H.I.E.L.D. had provided for her. She had already forced herself into the dress although, despite her aversion to dresses as a whole, Stasia had to admit she was coming around to liking the garment. The deep purple fabric hugged her chest and hips before falling lightly around her legs. Silently, Stasia thanked whoever it was in S.H.E.L.D. that kept SO's from watching training test missions-there was no way Barton would be okay with this dress. Of course, Barton really wasn't okay with any dress, but that was beside the point. With a final tug the lace straps were cinched tight enough to hold the heels on and Stasia carefully looped the excess around her calves the way that Natasha had taught her to. The glowing red numbers on the bedside clock told her that she had about an hour until her "date" would be here to pick her up. A different face flashed briefly in her mind; one that would hopefully be taking her on a real date when she returned.

_Focus, Stasia_

She shot a distasteful glare at the black case that was sitting on the counter of the bathroom. She hadn't actually packed it, but she had a sneaking suspicion that Natasha had (against S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol, of course) looked at the mission folder and decided that Stasia's stash of makeup just wouldn't cut it.

Given that Stasia didn't actually have a makeup stash, Natasha was right (to the surprise of no one).

A reluctant groan slipped through Stasia's lips as she heaved herself up of the floor.

_This is really more Natalia's specialty._

Anastasia missed her sister like hell but she wasn't worried. At least, not much. She couldn't help the involuntary worry that came from being separated from her sister, but she was sure that the last thing Barton and Romanoff would do is let something near fatal happen to Talia, rules be damned. Besides, Natalia could take care of herself. Heck, she could take care of herself, and Anastasia, and several small children, like Rania and Jeralyn.

_Oh._

Guilt flashed through Stasia at the name of the little girl that she had rescued. She had been so wrapped up in preparing for her mission that she had completely forgotten to look in on Jeralyn.

_I'll have to check in on her and talk to Coulson when I get back._

Stasia tried not to wince as she gently applied foundation to her skin. She had never liked makeup, but she could still hear Natasha's laugh and accompanying words (probably the same ones that she had told Talia at one point) from when she had voiced her dislike.

_"Better get used to it. We don't get to do much that we actually like here."_

A pang spiked through Stasia's heart at the thought of life back at S.H.I.E.L.D. Even with knowing all along that missions were the end goal, being away from people she had been with 24/7 for the past couple months was a struggle for her. Through her whole life, she had never been alone and that was something that she treasured. A wave of melancholy washed over, but as she reached back into the case she caught a whiff of Natasha's perfume and felt her throat burn.

_I guess I'm never really alone._

* * *

"This better be really important Coul-" Natasha stopped short when she walked into her handler's office and saw the circles under his eyes and the slightly wrinkled state of his normally crisp suit.

Oh, and the imposing presence of the trench coat and eye patch in the corner of the room.

"Agent Romanoff, have a seat."

"I think I'll stand, Director." Natasha eyed her two superiors warily.

Fury nodded and went straight to business, as usual. "You're going to New York."

Natasha didn't visibly react, but her eyes flicked over Coulson's disheveled state and she internally groaned.

"Please tell me you're not sending me to Stark."

Coulson grimaced sympathetically and nodded. "There's been a development...and he doesn't want to talk to me.

"Well maybe if you'd threaten to taze him less," muttered Natasha, earning her a glare. Fury cleared his throat and Coulson picked a folder up off his desk and held it out to Natasha.

"Here's your cover. Try to keep him alive."

She nodded. "When do I leave?"

"Wheels up in 30." Fury fixed his eye on Natasha. "This is an indefinite assignment, Romanoff."

Natasha froze for a moment. That meant that she might not be here when the girls-Natalia, specifically-got back.

But this was her job. This was what she did. So she nodded at her boss. "Understood, sir."

"Good. Coulson will be around if you need him. Now, why are you still here?"

"I'm not, sir." Natasha spun on her heel and walked out. "Keep Barton alive while I'm gone, Coulson."

She was gone without another word.

"Why me?" muttered Coulson, shaking his head at the retreating redhead. "Why  _them_?"

* * *

"It has to be because I'm Russian," Natalia muttered to herself. She was going to have to nag Coulson about supplying sunblock or, knowing S.H.I.E.L.D., something a little fancier. Acerbi had finally shown up late the day before and Natalia had tracked him to the building complex that she could now see across the street through her scope. She had been lying on this rooftop since about midnight-it was really starting to get on her nerves. It was sometime mid-morning now and, true to form, the Italian sun was blazing out across the land. Natalia could feel the sunburn that she had feared starting to form on her neck. Although her mission suit was keeping her body cool overall, wicking away sweat and such, it couldn't do anything about the beads of sweat that were collecting along her hairline or the exposed skin on her neck and face. Natalia glanced at her watch, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw that the time was 11:49. Thank God this was Italy and they still believed in midday mass. A movement at the door of the building under surveillance caught her eye and she pressed her face back into the scope. Acerbi stepped outside, followed by a woman who looked like his wife and a large contingency of workers.

_Finally._

Natalia followed the party with her scope until they reached the end of the street and turned the corner. Pressing a hand to her ear, she reached down and picked up a small, black device.

"This is Agent Silivanov. The subject has left the premises. Scanning for heat signatures now."

_"Copy that, Agent Silivanov."_  Natalia was disappointed but not altogether surprised when she heard an unfamiliar voice on the other end of her comms. Coulson had warned her that he might have to take off in the middle of her mission. He had assured her that Agent Reynolds was more than capable, but it had been nice having a sure contact that she knew for certain she could trust. Now she was well and truly on her own.

The scanner in her hand beeped, drawing her attention away from her thoughts.

"Building is cold. I'm approaching the premises."

_"Affirmative. You are clear to proceed according to your own judgment, Agent Silivanov."_

Natalia took a deep breath slid a rod over the cable that already connected the building she was on to Acerbi's. A rush of adrenalin spiked through her and a grin overtook her face as she jumped (literally) headfirst into what Barton and Romanoff had assured her was the best part of any mission:

The action.

* * *

"You look quite lovely tonight," said Marcus Sullivan, smiling down at his girlfriend. Annabella Easton gave a modest giggle and batted her eyes at him.

"Why thank you sweetie," she said through lips covered perfectly in just the right shade of red lipstick. "I know how much you love the dress."

Marcus cast his eyes appreciatively over the purple garment she was wearing and brought a hand up to sweep her pale blonde curls over one shoulder before leaning in and whispering, "But not nearly as much as I love the girl who's wearing it."

A shiver snaked down Annabella's back even as she smiled adoringly up at Marcus. She sighed impatiently and craned her neck toward the door. "How much longer do we have to wait?"

"No longer, madam." A man in black slacks and a black shirt walked up to unclip the gate. "You are free to enter. Enjoy the party."

"Thank you," said Marcus, offering his arm to Annabella. "Shall we?"

Annabella eagerly wrapped her arm around his and nodded. "Let's shall."

.

.

The minute that Anastasia was inside the party she was scanning. Every skill that Barton and Romanoff had taught her was working overtime, keeping her cover as Annabella Easton intact while also allowing her to collect as much information as she could. She felt "Marcus"-actually a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent named Charles-squeeze her hand gently.

"Want to try a dance?" he asked, amusement sparking at the barely concealed anxiety she felt at the offer. They had had plenty of time to chat on the drive to the mission location, so the young man who was serving as an accessory for her solo mission knew all about her limited dancing skills. "Don't worry," he whispered in her ear, "it's all in the leading."

Stasia's thoughts immediately flashed to Natasha, who had said practically the same thing. Forcing a smile on her face, Stasia nodded.

"Why else would we be here?" she said, grinning at the inside joke. Charles rolled his eyes and pulled her into his arms, drawing both of them out on the floor.

"How soon do you want to start the action?" murmured Charles. Stasia gently moved her head so that her cheek was resting on his shoulder-conveniently positioning her mouth near his ear.

"After a couple dances-don't want to raise suspicion by doing it too soon. I'll send you for punch in a little while." Charles nodded and suddenly dipped them both down, causing Stasia to leave her stomach in the air above them.

"I don't think much dancing should be in my future after this," she mumbled, eliciting a laugh from her partner. He responded by twirling across the floor, leaving the young blonde breathless. She smiled up at him to conceal her rapidly approaching nausea.

"It's all in the leading," he repeated with a grin. Stasia shook her head.

"Indeed it is," she muttered, forcing her thoughts not to wander to where-or rather, who-they wanted to. "Indeed it is."

* * *

"Ugh, I am so bored. How soon do you get back, Tasha?" Clint propped the phone between his head and his shoulder while he drew his bow and shot. He knew perfectly well that it was terrible form, but at the moment he really didn't care.

_"I told you Clint, it's an indefinite assignment. Even Fury doesn't know how long I'll have to babysit Stark."_

"I know, I know," grumbled the archer. "It's just annoying, being here all alone."

_"I haven't even been gone a full twenty-four hours yet Barton. You lived by yourself for years."_

"It's not the same." Clint chanced a glance out the window of the range and felt his stomach drop to the ground when he saw the person headed his way. "Look, Nat, I gotta go-Hill's on her way down and she does not look happy."

_"Ha! I'll call you later…assuming you survive whatever Maria does to you."_

"Thanks for the confidence," muttered Clint, snapping his S.H.I.E.L.D. phone shut and looking up as Maria Hill entered the shooting range.

"You. Upstairs.  _Now_."

Clint stared at her in surprise. He wracked his brain, trying to remember what stupid stunt he had pulled that had landed him in the doghouse this time, but he came up empty.

"Wow it's nice to see you too Maria." Sarcasm dripped off every word. "How've you been since the last time Fury sent you to chew me out?"

"This isn't about you Barton, surprisingly enough." Maria rolled her eyes. "But it is about someone you probably care about."

Clint's sassy remark died in his throat as he processed her words. "They're back?"

"Some _one_ , Barton." Maria was watching him closely. She didn't know Clint's secret about the other girl, but she had been there in the aftermath, had seen him go positively ballistic and was smart enough to figure out, in a very vague capacity, what had caused Barton's temporary insanity. It made her wary whenever she was broaching a similar subject.

"Which one?" Clint was proud of the fact that he kept his voice from shaking and his face composed.

"Natalia." They turned a corner and suddenly Clint understood why Maria was so tense.

"Maria, why the hell are we going to Medical?"

"It's nothing Barton." But when S.H.I.E.L.D.''s second-in-command wouldn't meet his eyes, Clint's mind started to jump to all the worst conclusions.

"Tell me what happened  _right now_ , or I swear to God Maria-"

"Calm down Barton it's the routine post-mission check-up!" Hill shot an annoyed glare at him.

"Oh." Clint relaxed. "Why didn't you just say that?"

"Well..." Maria seemed reluctant to explain and Clint grew suspicious.

"What else Maria?" he spoke in a quiet tone that Maria considered much more dangerous than the telling. She hesitated for another second and then,

"She's not saying much," the brunette admitted. "From what I can tell the mission went off without a hitch and she's not seriously injured, but she hasn't said more than ten words to anyone."

_Aw crap_ , thought Clint,  _of all the times for Tasha to be gone._

"Not all wounds show, Maria. You know that."

"I know," said Hill quietly. "That's why I got you. I figured she'd be more likely to talk to a familiar face."

They paused outside the door to Natalia's room in Medical and Clint shrugged.

"Maybe, maybe not. I guess I can try. But if something happened on the mission, she's not going to need me. She's going to need Natasha."

"That's not an option at the moment," said Maria crisply.

"That was stupid, by the way."

"Bad timing," Hill answered dismissively, "now go talk to her."

"Yes ma'am, Miss Acting Director," muttered Clint, ducking into the room to avoid Hill's parting glare.

* * *

"I am never going to be good enough for you!" shrieked Anastasia. The tears on her face and the anguish in her voice felt and sound real enough, and for a moment she actually felt like she was Annabella, breaking up with her boyfriend Marcus in the middle of a crowded dance floor. Then she blinked and she was Anastasia again, staring at Charles through tear-muddled eyes. The whole room had stopped and was watching them and it was making her quite nervous-despite knowing that that was exactly what they wanted.

"Annabella..." Charles sighed and rolled his eyes in the perfect rendition of a boyfriend who is more than done with his girlfriend's theatrics.

"No!" Anastasia spat the word at him like poison, hoping that he would forgive her later-Charles was pretty cool. "You've been watching that blonde over there all night-don't think I haven't noticed!" She waved her hand at some random blonde over by the bar, who gasped and pressed her hand delicately to her chest.

"Anna, please-"

"Stop." Stasia was shaking now, letting the adrenalin that was coursing through her mimic the reaction of a distraught girlfriend.

"Anna, please sweetheart, we can fix this-"

"Just stop, okay?" Anastasia pushed herself away from Charles and stumbled backwards, creating a perfectly dramatic spectacle. "We're done, Marcus. We can't fix this, because this? This is _over._ "

Anastasia spun on her heel and stormed off on what appeared to be a totally random path chosen in rage, but was, in reality, a well-planned and scouted route that Stasia probably could've walked with her eyes closed. She heard the expected sound of pursuit from Charles and let out the tiniest breath when she heard it stop abruptly. Thank God, everything was going according to plan.

She emerged from the hallway into a small, circular garden centered on a generic looking stone fountain. Stasia had cried enough real tears in her life that it was no trouble at all for her to produce a new wave of fake tears. She forced herself to breathe in gasps for effect as she tripped her way over to the little wooden bench across from the archway where she had entered. Her ears picked up the echoes of someone else's footsteps in the hallway, but the footfalls were too heavy to be Charles'.

_He's faster than I thought._

The "he" in question was Scott Demana, a New Hampshire "businessman"-but what business he was in depended on whom you were and when you asked him. Unfortunately (and a little too conveniently), there was no evidence linking Demana to the shadier side of his business. The only lead they had on the man were several reports of young women disappearing in New Hampshire, always at parties hosted by Demana and always after they had a fight with their significant other. This, of course, lead to one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s favorite tactics: send in an agent that fit the profile and let Demana incriminate himself.

So here was Anastasia, sniffling rather noisily, sitting on a bench, waiting for Demana to come and "rescue" her from her misery. The footsteps kept coming closer until finally they stopped and when Stasia raised her head in pretend confusion, she could see a tall dark figure standing in the archway.

"What do you want?" Since she was supposed to have just broken up with her boyfriend, Stasia figured that she was fully justified in being a little snappy.

"I just thought you might want some water, and maybe a shoulder to cry on." His voice was deep and alluring and Anastasia could instantly understand how so many had been drawn in. She nodded and he proceeded over to where she was sitting. His hand brushed her arm when he handed her the water cup and she was suddenly hyperaware of the tracker that was imbedded below the skin of her wrist. Demana lowered himself onto the bench next to her and it took every muscle Stasia had to suppress a shudder. It went against every instinct that she had learned: in Russia, on the streets, from Talia, and from Barton and Romanoff. Each little molecule of her body was screaming at her to run, as far and as fast as she possibly could. Instead, she took an unsteady breath and tried to look at Demana, feigning difficulty focusing her eyes.

"Who are you?"

"Brad," he lied smoothly and Stasia had to bite back a disbelieving snort. Gingerly, she leaned her head against his shoulder, just like any distraught girl who's had a couple drinks might do with any stranger. Demana scooted closer and lightly laid his arm across her shoulders. Stasia raised the water to her lips and took a sip. The air was chilly enough as it was and she shivered at the iciness of the drink. In one fluid motion, Demana had his jacket off and had wrapped it around her, surrounding her in the scent of overpriced cologne. He gently rubbed the small of her back in what would have been a comforting motion, if Stasia was practically anyone else.

"How about I give you a ride back to your house?" Stasia hesitated before she answered, like any girl, even one slightly drunk, would do.

"That's probably b-huh-best," she hiccupped out, "I don't think I want to ride with Marcus." When she said Charles' cover name, Stasia let loose a fresh wave of fake tears and pressed her face into the sleeve of Demana's jacket. He sympathetically tightened his grip around her shoulders and helped her up.

"That's probably not a good idea," he agreed and they started walking. Anastasia let him guide her through the halls, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for him to make his play. They were in the shadows just outside the parking lot when she suddenly felt something prick her arm and she gasped.

"Sorry about this Annabella," murmured Demana, sounding genuinely apologetic as he put his arms out to catch her when she fell. "But it was just too much of a waste to let you go home."

Stasia couldn't say a word; whatever drug he had injected her with was paralytic and it worked fast. Her heart was racing unashamedly now and even though Anastasia knew that she had to let him take her to wherever he kept the girls he took, knew that she then had to find a way out, knew that she had to make her own way back to the nearby base that they had set up, there was only one thing that she knew for absolute certain:

The rest was positively, completely, up to her.

* * *

It was a relief for Coulson to step back into his office. He was off duty for the moment; now it was Natasha's turn to babysit the idiot playboy in New York. Smirking briefly at the thought, Coulson sank down into his desk chair with a weary sigh.

Of course, his phone chose that moment to ring.

With a groan and no small amount of reluctance, the senior agent retrieved the device from his pocket and flipped it open.

"Coulson."

_"Agent Coulson, this is Agent Reynolds."_

Surprise flashed across Coulson's face when the caller identified himself. Reynolds was a well-qualified agent, more than capable of handling training missions, which he had done dozens of times before.

"What is it Reynolds?"

_"Agent Charles Hewen just reported in on the New Hampshire mission, sir."_

_Anastasia's mission._ For the barest amount of time, Coulson was relieved. Finally, he would be able to give Barton some news and hopefully keep the archer from breathing down his neck so much.

"Okay. What was the status report Agent?"

_"Well, sir, there seems to be an issue that we need a senior agent on…"_  Reynolds hesitated and foreboding dread filled Coulson from head to toe.

"What was the report, Agent?" he repeated, voice suddenly tense. Coulson was halfway to the door even as he was asking his question; his infallible sixth sense was telling him that something was terribly, horribly wrong. He heard Reynolds take a deep breath on the other end before he heard seven words that brought all of his previous relief crashing down.

_"Agent Silivanov's tracker has gone dark, sir."_

 


	22. Interlude: Deck The Halls

**Interlude: Deck The Halls**

"Be careful, Stasia," warned Natalia, holding the ladder that her sister was standing on.

"I've almost got it." Stasia's voice was muffled, owing to the fact that her head was stuffed way back in Clint's closet.

"What are you two hoping to accomplish?" Natasha was lounging comfortably against the headboard of the bed.

"It's late November, Tasha!" exclaimed Natalia, "What do you think we're doing?"

Natasha rubbed an emery board across her nails. "I have no clue."

"Got it!" cried Stasia, pulling back out of the closet with a medium sized box in her hands. "Ouch!"

"Told you to be careful," muttered Talia. Stasia rubbed the back of her head where it had collided with the edge of the closed doorframe.

"I wouldn't have to be if we were in  _our_  rooms, where we should be." Stasia glared at her sister. Talia raised her hands in surrender.

"Let it go Stasia," said Natasha. "It was funny and you know it."

"Pouring dry rice over every surface in both our rooms and your room is not funny and Coulson agrees with me."

"Relax, Stasia, pranks are part of the Christmas spirit." Natalia smirked and tugged the box they had retrieved out of her sisters hands. Natasha looked up at the word Christmas.

"Is that what this is about? Christmas?"

"Oh, yes." Stasia's whole face lit up. "Clint told me that he kept his old decorations in his closet, so I figured we could get them down and put them up to surprise him when he gets back from his mission."

"Well you better hurry," commented Natasha nonchalantly. "He got back twenty minutes ago. He'll be out of debrief within the hour."

"What?!" shrieked the twins. "Why didn't you say something?"

"You were busy," shrugged Natasha.

"You're helping us with this," ordered Natalia, eliciting the famous eyebrow raise from her SO.

"Why would I ever do that?"

"Because if you don't, I'll tell May and Hill that it was you who put salt in all of their bottled water and not Clint."

"Fine," groaned Natasha, "I'll do it."

"Do what?" Clint strolled in the open door and tossed his duffel on the bed next to Natasha.

"Clint!" Stasia danced over to her SO and wrapped her arms around him.

"Hey Stasia!" Clint smiled down at her. "Now, what is Tasha doing that she doesn't want to?"

Natalia shook the box that she was still holding, causing some of the enclosed bells to ring. "Decorate for Christmas, of course!"

"Aw, yes." Clint grinned at the well-worn box. "C'mon Tasha, we go through this every year. Why do you even bother fighting it?"

"I don't know," muttered the redhead.

"Why're you all in my room anyway?" asked Clint suspiciously.

"Uhhh…" Natalia hesitated.

"Never mind," Clint waved his hand at her. "I don't want to know. Let's go get started on decorating."

"What do you mean, 'let's go'?" asked Stasia. Clint and Natasha exchanged a conspiratorial smirk.

"It's tradition," explained Clint, turning toward the door, "After I convince Tasha to help, we always start with Coulson's office."

* * *

"It's started," moaned Coulson, walking into Hill's office. The assistant director looked up, not surprised enough to convince Coulson that she hadn't already known.

"Did they put that little tree up with all the Captain America ornaments in your office again?"

Coulson nodded. "It seems they took advantage of the fact that they had two extra sets of hands this year. The floor and my desk are covered in fake snow and  _someone_ -" Coulson rolled his eyes, "-dangled little icicles shaped like arrows from the ceiling."

"Hey in all fairness, that  _could_  have been Anastasia this year," pointed out Maria. Coulson just sighed.

"Have you seen May? I couldn't seem to figure out where she'd gone…" Coulson narrowed his eyes at Hill's guilty look. "Where is she Maria?"

"Your house," revealed Maria with a smirk. "Apparently, Romanoff already dragged her into this."

* * *

"Coulson's going to kill all of you," observed May, staring around at the mess Barton, Romanoff, and the twins had made of Phil's kitchen.

"Nah, he won't," said Natalia confidently, spreading red icing over one of the sugar cookies that had finished cooling. Her sister nodded in agreement, dipping her knife in the tub of green icing.

"Not after he tastes these sugar cookies, anyway." Stasia stared down at the treat she was icing in wonder. "How do you make such good cookies, Clint?"

"I ask him that every year," said Natasha, popping another pan into the oven.

"Secret family recipe," declared Clint, pouring more flour into the mixing bowl-and dumping an almost equal amount onto the counter. Natasha glanced around the kitchen, an amused glint in her eye.

"Lucky would be having a field day with this," she said, elbowing her partner. The twins perked up immediately.

"Lucky? Who's Lucky?"

"My dog," said Clint, "and that-" he turned back to Natasha, "-is why we do this at Phil's apartment and not mine."

"You have a dog?" shrieked Stasia and Talia, practically drowning out the sound of an opening door and Coulson saying, "Do  _what_ , at my apartment, Barton?"

Needless to say, that question didn't need answering as soon as Phil rounded the corner from the entryway.

"Good Lord, you guys." Coulson shook his head. "I'm surprised you had enough time to trash this place after all the effort you put into my office. May, couldn't you have at least done some damage control?"

"This is damage control," May informed him, "I traded Barton's industrial-sized bag of flour for a regular one."

"Aww, come on May," whined Clint, "I spent forever hunting that bag down."

"Besides, you know how it works Coulson," said May with a smirk, "Your office first, then the cookies at your apartment. It's tradition."

"Personally, I'm most excited for what comes next," said Natasha, drawing curious looks from both twins.

"Why, do you like losing, rookie?" Stasia and Talia swung their inquisitive faces towards May. Natasha snorted.

"That's not how I remember things going last year."

Clint leaned his head down between the twins and whispered. "Every year, they have a knife throwing contest. Super fun to watch." He exchanged a glance with Coulson, conveniently forgetting to mention what the knife throwing contest was held to decide.

"Speaking of which," said Coulson, "Hill should be just about finished setting everything up. So if you lot are finished…?"

Clint slipped off his apron and Natasha hit cancel on the oven. "Ready when you are, O mighty handler."

Coulson rolled his eyes and opened the door, sighing at the mess left in their wake.

_The things I do for Christmas._

* * *

_*Christmas Eve*_

"C'mon, Phil. You lost, fair and square. Now put the suit on." Clint shoved a pile of red fabric at his handler. "You too, May," whispered Natasha, pushing her own pile of red at her old SO. The two senior agents sighed.

"This is all your fault Phil," hissed May. Coulson looked at her, spluttering incredulously.

"My fault? How is this my fault?"

"You're the one who bet on me."

"What, like you wouldn't have killed me if I bet on Natasha?"

"That's beside the point."

"Alright lovebirds, get a room," muttered Clint. "I mean it. Get a room where you can change before your arguing wakes them up." He jerked his head in the direction of Phil's couch where the twins were curled up, fast asleep. "I'm gonna take them back to the guest room so you guys can get started." Without further ado, Clint scooped up Stasia and started back to the guest room, leaving Phil and May to retreat to another room to change. Natasha leaned down and nimbly lifted Talia into her arms, following Clint back to the guest room.

* * *

_*Christmas Day*_

"Do you have the goods?" whispered Stasia conspiratorially, grinning at her sister. Talia whipped the lid off of a box, revealing two pairs of elf-ear headbands.

"Absolutely."

"Alright. Let's go." The girls crept out of their room and into the room across the hall. The barest moment was spent on a glance at the other and a smirk when they saw that Clint and Natasha were sharing a bed. Of course, both would probably just point out the fact that sleeping arrangements were tight, but that was beside the fact. The twins slipped carefully across the carpet, both knowing all too well their mentors' tendencies to attack first, ask questions later when they were woken up unexpectedly. Gingerly, they each slid a pair of the elf ears over their SO's heads, not letting them touch skin just yet. The twins locked eyes and silently counted down.

_3…2…1…go!_

They let the headbands snap into place and both ducked and rolled under the bed as Clint reached for his gun and Tasha reached for her knife.

"What the hell?" asked Clint groggily, groping around the top of his head. He pulled off the offending headband and groaned. "Anastasia, get your butt out here."

"You too, Natalia," added Natasha, knowing neither would have gone far without the other. The twins rolled out from under the bed and smirked at their mentors.

"Merry Christmas!" they chimed in unison. Clint and Natasha rolled their eyes but smiled. They just couldn't be mad at the childlike excitement that filled both girls' eyes.

"C'mon, c'mon," begged Stasia, tugging on Clint's arm while Talia mirrored her actions with Natasha, "We have to go wake up Phil and Melinda."

"This should be good," said Clint, grinning at Natasha as they slid out of the bed.

"I'll call Maria," replied the redhead, snatching her phone as they followed the twins down the hall, absentmindedly humming Christmas carols all the way.

* * *

"Natasha's first Christmas?" asked Clint. The twins nodded up at him from where they were sitting in the middle of a pile of wrapping paper scraps.

"Why do you want to hear about that?" scowled Natasha.

"Because it's interesting!" exclaimed Natalia.

"C'mon, Clint. Tell us!" begged Stasia.

"Well, let's see," said Clint, rubbing his chin. "You'll have to help me with this one Phil, make sure I get everything right. Tasha hadn't been here long, a few months, maybe. But I wasn't going to let my new partner spend Christmas alone, like she was planning. I dragged her along with me over here and basically told Phil that he needed to make room for one more."

"I thought it was wonderful to see Barton finally starting to be social," interjected Coulson sarcastically, "If only I'd known then."

"We discovered, to our great surprise, that Natasha had never had Christmas cookies." Clint grinned mischievously. "Which is how the tradition of making cookies at Phil's house started."

"The knife throwing thing started then too," added May with a smirk. "That was before we taught Romanoff that it wasn't socially acceptable in America to throw knives at the wall centimeters from people's heads."

"That rule still doesn't apply to me, apparently," muttered Clint.

"You guys are leaving so much out!" complained Natasha. "Quit making me out to be a cold-hearted Russian spy!" Silence fell over the room and Clint fake coughed-which quickly turned into a laugh. Even Natasha cracked a smile at the irony of her outburst.

"What are we leaving out, Natasha?" asked Coulson. The redhead smiled fondly.

"May made us some peppermint hot cocoa and we drank cocoa and ate Clint's magic cookies while Coulson read us Christmas stories. I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have because the next thing I know, this dork-" she playfully poked Clint, "-is bopping me on the head telling me to get up and open presents."

"It was the first year Tasha had presents," explained Clint. "She thought we weren't going to get her anything."

"You hardly knew me," objected Natasha, "What was I supposed to think?"

"You were supposed to know that Phil, May, and I are excellent judges of character and already knew that you were a fantastic person and therefore would buy you presents." Natasha was speechless for a minute, but the twins were beaming at their SO's. Uncharacteristically (and determinedly ignoring the smirks of their trainees), Natasha reached over and pulled Clint into a hug.

"You're such an idiot," she whispered.

"You like it," quipped Clint. Suddenly, before Natasha had time for a retort, there was a hesitant knock at the door. All of the adults looked cautiously toward the entrance.

"Are we expecting anyone else?" asked Coulson.

"No," said Natasha and Clint with absolute certainty. The twins both blushed and looked away guiltily, immediately drawing narrowed eyes from their SO's.

"Actually…" Stasia bit her lip, "I might have invited someone possibly who might not have had any family to spend Christmas with?"

Clint rolled his eyes. "Go let the boy in before he wets himself out of fear for me."

"He won't be fearing you much longer," said Natalia with a smirk, "seeing how he's about to meet Tasha and Melinda."

"Not to mention Phil," muttered Tasha. Stasia opened the door and, sure enough, there was Dylan, waiting nervously with a package in his hand.

"Hey Dylan," said Stasia, stepping back to let him in and wrapping him in a hug after she shut the door. "Merry Christmas," she whispered.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered back, squeezing her hand and shooting a nervous glance at the group gathered by Coulson's tree. "I'm not late am I?" Stasia turned so that she could walk him over and introduce him.

"Of course not," she told him with a warm grin and a peck to the cheek. "Christmas has just begun. Now, come join the family." She dragged him over, shooting warning glares at everyone seated. "Everyone, this is Dylan. You all be nice, or we're both leaving. Capiche?"

"Hi Dylan," said Natasha, the teasing tone of her voice toeing the line of Stasia's patience.

"I mean it Tasha," she said sternly, "Do that some other time."

"You're no fun," pouted Natasha.

"I'm lots of fun," contradicted Stasia. "But back on topic. Coulson, just to be fair, you have to tell us about Clint's first Christmas."

"No he doesn't," protested Clint quickly.

"He does now," said Natasha, smirking.

"Clint's first Christmas," said Phil with a grin. "Oh, how I remember it…"

 


	23. You Can Walk Instead of Run

**Chapter 21: You Can Walk Instead of Run**

Consciousness was slow in returning to Anastasia. Awareness rippled out from the center of her brain until she felt a tingle in her fingers and toes, telling her that she could probably move again. She blinked a few times and then tried to sit up, only to have a pair of small hands push her back down.

"Psst….she's waking up!" hissed a voice. Stasia whipped her head to the left. She might be in utter darkness, but she could still tell that the voice came from there.

"Who are you?" she demanded, flailing her arms and doing her best to kick her legs, "Why did you bring me here?"

"Calm down," said a different voice, one that was more authoritative. Two more pairs of hands held Stasia's arms and legs down. "We are not the ones who brought you here."

The voice finally lit a match and touched it to the wick of a candle.  _Odd_ , thought Stasia, but she was quickly distracted by the faces of her companions. The girl with the candle looked strong. She was tan and muscular, with long, straight black hair pulled back in a severe pony tail. Her coal-black eyes were staring straight into Stasia's, as if they could see into her soul. To her left was the one who was holding down Stasia's shoulders. She was petite with light brown hair that fell in curly wisps about her face and neck. Bright, kind blue eyes gazed apologetically down at Stasia from a round, childish face. Stasia flicked her eyes to the girl who was keeping her arms pinned to the mattress she could now feel underneath her back. This girl was, as best as Stasia could tell, slightly taller than average, with wavy red hair, hazel eyes and a cute smattering of freckles across her nose. Beside her was the final occupant of the room, a strawberry blonde with chocolate eyes, watching Stasia with concern from her position on top of Stasia's legs. Stasia finally relaxed, collapsing back against the bed and the four girls breathed out in relief.

"You can't sit up yet," explained the brunette softly, "the drug he gave you hasn't actually worn off and you'll faint again if you try."

"But I feel normal," protested Anastasia. Each of the girls' faces darkened.

"So did all of us," said the black haired girl darkly. Stasia swallowed, still playing the part of the nervous kidnaped girl (although not all of the nerves were play-acted).

"What's your name?" asked the redhead, breaking the momentary silence.

"Annabella, Anna to my friends and boy-" Stasia stopped short, as though she (as Annabella) had just remembered the 'fight' that she had with her 'boyfriend'. As she had expected, all four of the girls nodded understandingly.

"You got in a fight with him, didn't you?" asked the strawberry-blonde sadly. "We all did. And then, we were here."

Stasia stared at the ground. This was why she was here. Play the part, figure a way out. "What are your names?"

"Caroline, but I prefer Cora," said the petite brunette.

"I'm Tory," said the strawberry blonde.

"Ellie," said the redhead.

"Meg," said the last girl. Stasia nodded slowly.

"How long have I been here?"

"About six hours," Ellie told her.

_Well shoot. I've missed at least one check in, maybe two. Talia's going to kill me._

"So do any of you know why he has us here?" Ellie, Cora, and Tory all shot fearful glances at Meg. Cora started to open her mouth to explain, but Meg shook her head. Stasia watched the exchange curiously.

"Easier to show you," Meg told her. Face totally unreadable, the girl stood up. Stasia had been right; Meg was in optimal physical condition. The girl looked like she could run a marathon…with one small exception. Stasia's eyes were drawn to it and a gasp escaped her throat when she realized what it was.

A small, defined bump between Meg's hip bones.

Meg was pregnant.

* * *

Coulson pressed his phone to his ear as he ran through the halls of S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ.

_Pick up, pick up, pick up._

"Hill."

"Maria, I need Barton and I need Natalia in mission command and I need them there now."

There was the barest of pauses. "Why?" she asked, even as Coulson heard her lean away from the phone and order an agent to fetch Barton and Talia. Maria Hill knew better than to mess around when Coulson sounded like he did now.

"Anastasia's embedded tracker went dark after she was taken by Demana." Coulson was short and to the point.

"Don't let Barton do anything stupid. Natalia either." Maria ended the call.

* * *

Fear was coursing through Natalia as she ran with Barton, following him to mission command. Stasia had missed her last check-in, but Talia hadn't thought anything of it, had just attributed it to being on a mission. Now there was no question something was wrong. Coulson wouldn't call both of them to mission command like this if there wasn't.

They burst through the door and Coulson wheeled around. "Thank God," he breathed.

"What's wrong, Phil?" demanded Barton.

"What's happened to my sister?" cried Talia

"We don't know," Coulson told her, "The tracker we put in her has gone dark." Clint spun towards the door, only to have Coulson grab his arm and yank him back.

"Don't even think about it Barton," Coulson warned. "You aren't allowed to go after her. She has to get herself out of this."

"So why in the great big world did you call us here?" asked Talia through gritted teeth.

"It's the way her tracker went out," said Coulson. "Reynolds?"

All eyes swung to the agent who was furiously typing away at the computer. He spun his chair to reach a different keyboard and a blinking light appeared on one of the blank screens.

"If her tracker had been discovered, ripped out, and smashed it would have moved erratically before switching off, like this," he punched a few keys and the light on the screen jumped a few inches up, then blinked out. Reynolds swung back to his original computer, "This is the last few moments of Agent Silivanov's tracker life."

A new light appeared on the screen and they all watched it intently. The light beat like a steady pulse for about ten seconds, then it just went out. No movement, no flickering, just there…and then gone.

"She wasn't made," said Natalia, relief flooding her as much as it could. "She still has a chance to get out of this."

Coulson nodded. "That's why I called you in."

* * *

"It's not what you think," said Cora, taking in the horrified expression on Stasia's face and hurrying to explain. "He doesn't…you know, rape us. He's trying to create a super race of humans."

"The embryo is implanted," Meg stated, sliding gracefully back into her chair and Stasia finally relaxed. "He finds male donors, but he doesn't have to hold them captive," she continued bitterly.

"A super race of humans?" Stasia shook her head. "They never learn do they? It's not even original."

Stasia's attempted joke lightened the tension and the walls seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Cora, Ellie, and Tory relaxed their grips and sat back.

"You can sit up now, but slowly," warned Tory. Stasia gently pushed herself up until she was sitting with her back against the wall. The movement took a surprising amount of effort.

"Give it a few more hours," Ellie told her, seeing Stasia's exasperation, "The drug is a powerful one."

Stasia nodded. "Tell me more about what he's doing here."

"We don't know much," admitted Cora, "He likes to keep us in the dark."

"What we do know," said Meg, "Is that his name is Scott and he thinks that he can create a super-baby by combining all the different traits of the human race in every possible combination and assessing which one is best for survival. He's like a cross-breeding, evolutionary fanatic."

Stasia stared around, astounded, but also realizing for the first time that none of the girls had even remotely similar traits. "That's impossible! There are hundreds of different alleles, just for one part of one trait. It would take him hundreds of years!"

"That's the other bit," said Tory soberly. She hesitated at the question in Stasia's eyes, "You might not believe us right away…"

"Try me," challenged Stasia, "I've seen some pretty weird stuff."

"I saw this old, yellowed, newspaper clipping," Ellie piped up, "When he took me out into his office for a physical. It was an article about Scott, about him receiving some sort of science award or something."

"So?" asked Stasia, not quite understanding what the big deal was about this guy being in the newspaper.

"The article was from 1802," said Cora quietly. Stasia's eyes widened like saucers and she gasped.

"So what you're telling me is…"

"He's had hundreds of years, if not more," finished Meg, "We don't know how, but he's lived that long."

They were all watching her anxiously, expecting denials and accusations of insanity; no doubt that's how the rest of them reacted, but Stasia's mind was whirling a mile a minute and she was too busy to worry about a proper reaction at the moment.

_Scott Demana is some kind of immortal. Coulson's gonna love this._

She smirked internally, then a fist of worry clenched over her heart. She had still missed check-in, with both Talia and S.H.I.E.L.D. at this point. They had to be looking for her and she was trapped in the clutches of an immortal-baby-making-Darwin. Desperately, although for the first time since she arrived, Stasia reached out mentally to her sister, jolting when she felt her telepathic reach hit a wall.

She was trapped with zero means of communication and zero idea of what to do.

_Well this is a killer introduction to S.H.I.E.L.D._

* * *

The tension in the mission command room was suffocating. Natalia and Clint watched the screens, anxiety mounting as Reynolds' fingers flew across the keyboard. Coulson had left ages ago, shortly after a quick phone call from Fury, muttering something to the effect of 'dammit Stark' and now Talia and Clint were left to stare helplessly, hoping against hope that Stasia's tracker light would reappear on the screen. The sharp ringing of Clint's S.H.I.E.L.D. issued cell phone filled the room and made both agents flinch. Flipping the phone open, Clint pressed it to his ear.

"Barton."

_"Clint, what the hell is going on there? Coulson won't tell me a damn thing."_

"Natasha," Clint breathed. Natalia's head snapped around immediately. "It's Anastasia."

_"Oh God...what happened?"_

"Her tracker went dead on the job," Clint told his partner grimly.

_"Shit,"_  muttered Natasha under her breath,  _"Is Natalia back? Does she know?"_

"She's right here," Clint reassured her. "Do you want to-?"

" _No time,"_  interrupted Natasha.  _"Tell her I'm sorry, but it's all I could do to get away for a short call."_

"She'll understand." Natalia nodded at Clint and returned her gaze to the computer screen.

_"I know. But listen, you need to ask her something. Ask her how Anastasia woke her up before, after what happened in Zimbabwe. It might be a way to get her back, if I'm right."_

Clint frowned. "What're you talking about, Nat?"

_"Look, trust me on this and just do it. I have to go now-Stark just ditched his house arrest. He must've figured out whatever his dad left for him. Things are about to get ugly..."_  Natasha paused for a moment and cleared her throat.  _"Just find her, okay?"_

"I will," Clint promised. "Be careful, Tasha."

_"Aren't I always?"_  and the line disconnected.

"Everything okay?" asked Natalia. Clint nodded.

"Yeah, she's just dealing with Stark and his usual crap." Clint chewed on his bottom lip, hesitating. "Listen, Talia, could I have a word with you? Outside?"

"Yeah…?" said Talia with questioning curiosity. Clint didn't reply, just stood and slipped out into the deserted hallway without waiting to see if she was following. Natalia stepped after him, wondering what Natasha had possible said.

"Look Natalia, I know we're not past all the secrets," Clint started, glancing up and down the hallway to check for passersby, "But Natasha said to ask you something, said that it might help us find Stasia…"

A cold fist closed around Natalia's heart. "And what was that?"

"After Zimbabwe…when you were, y'know," Clint glanced down and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well…how is it that Anastasia was able to wake you up?"

Natalia chewed on her lip. "I...I can't tell you."

"Please, Natalia," Clint was all but begging. "We have to find her; you know that—better than anyone else probably. If you know something that can help her, promises aside, we have to try it-"

"Don't you think I already have?" she snapped, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. "Telling you won't change the fact that it isn't working."

"But what if S.H.I.E.L.D. has tech that you don't know about? What if combined with whatever your thing is, we can find her?" Clint was desperate, but hope flared inside him at the slightest flicker of hesitation he saw when Natalia opened her jade eyes. "Please, Talia."

"Promise me something," she finally said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Anything," replied Clint.

"This doesn't go outside us-you, me, Tasha, and Stasia. And Coulson," she added as an afterthought.

"Done."

"And..." Talia hesitated again, but then she lifted her chin and stared Clint in the eye. "You have to tell me why everyone looks at you like you're a lit fuse every time Stasia leaves."

Clint froze, mouth halfway open, panic jolting his heart.

_The other girl._

_I can't-even Tasha doesn't really-impossible_

Barton's eyes sought out Talia's, wishing to heck that he could explain exactly why that was the one thing he couldn't do, the one condition he couldn't meet, but the painful honesty in her gaze told him that she already knew.

That was exactly why she picked it.

_I'm asking her to give up a secret she never shared with anyone else. Is it anything less than fair for her to demand the same?_

_Maybe it's time to stop trying to forget and start remembering._

Clint drew a shaky breath. "Okay. But," he said, holding up his hand to stop Talia's look of surprise. "You have to wait until Stasia gets back. I don't want to...I  _can't_  tell it twice."

Talia nodded slowly. "Okay."

Clint looked at her expectantly. "Well?"

"Give me a minute!" snapped Talia, glaring. Clint winced and held up his hands in surrender.

"Sorry, sorry." Natalia took a long, deep breath.

"We figured it out when we were about seven. Stasia had been grounded-I don't remember what for-and our parents had locked her in her room." Natalia swallowed the lump in her throat and pressed her palms together. "I was worried about her...it was like I could feel her anguish. Not just empathy," she added quickly, catching the doubtful gleam in Clint's eye. "It was like I was actually the one who'd been grounded." She waited for Clint's assenting nod before continuing.

"I was worried, but I wasn't allowed to talk to her of course. So I just...asked her..." Talia glanced nervously at Barton. "...you know, in my head."

Clint's eyes turned wide as saucers, but Talia didn't leave him any room to interrupt.

"I just thought it would make me feel better," she said. "I wasn't expecting her to answer."

"Telepathy," breathed Clint. Natalia nodded.

"We have a telepathic link, mentally and emotionally. We can speak and feel the other's emotions. We promised we'd never tell anyone—not even our parents knew. We just wanted to have a little secret; we didn't know what our parents were doing then, not really."

"Have you ever been blocked from her before, maybe because of distance?" asked Clint.

Natalia grimaced and shook her head. "This is the first time and it's weird. It's not like I've lost the power of telepathy, I can still reach out to her, it's just that every time I try to get all the way through to her, I hit a wall."

Clint nodded thoughtfully. "I'll talk to Coulson, if that's alright. He might be able to help, assuming he's not too busy sorting out Stark."

Natalia nodded and jerked her head at the door to the control room. "I'm going to go back in there. Let me know if anything comes of it."

"Mhm. And Natalia?" Talia stopped and glanced back over her shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." Natalia stared at her sister's trainer hard for a long moment.

"You'll be returning the favor."

* * *

In the hour that she had been awake, Stasia had learned more about her fellow captives then her mission briefing ever could have told her. For instance, Meg came from a middle class family. That, Stasia already knew. But what the briefing hadn't told her was that Meg's family couldn't afford to send her to college—she was relying on a scholarship. That scholarship, incidentally, was being provided by Plymouth State University for athletic reasons—Meg was their future women's volleyball star. Demana had taken her at an end of season party that he hosted, right after her boyfriend Daniel had started a fight with her over her supposed flirting with another boy.

Tory, on the other hand, was a trust fund baby. Stasia hadn't been sure what to expect when she read that-snotty or sweet-but mostly Tory seemed levelheaded. Her parents didn't pay much attention to her, but when they did, it was usually to yell at her about not being perfect. She was a senior this year and really looking forward to college (at Harvard); although not really because of college itself, but more that it meant she could get away from her family. She had been snatched at some charity benefit that her parents dragged her to so that they could play the part of a loving family. She had been happy to bring her boyfriend along, at least until her parents got angry at him for his less-than-impeccable manners. They told her that she had to tell him to leave, which Leo didn't take to kindly to.

Ellie was the oldest of six kids from a lower class family, but it was clear that they were the dearest things to her by the way that her whole face glowed when she talked about them. Both of her parents worked long day, which meant that Ellie had all but raised her siblings. Stasia couldn't help but notice the longing in her eyes when the other girls talked about college, but Ellie insisted that she would rather stay home and help her family than go on with her education. Her almost-ex-boyfriend had been on the verge of breaking up with her even before their fight at a school dance that Demana had funded. Ryan, her boyfriend, was a senior and close to graduating and going off to college. Both he and Ellie knew that a long distance relationship would be too difficult for them, but Ellie wasn't quite ready to let go of him yet, which ended up being the seed of their last scuffle.

Cora was the younger of two daughters with a single mom. Her mother was high up in some science corporation and the girls lived in the lap of luxury, albeit with a lot of the emotional struggles that came from living in a house with only one parent. Stasia's heart clenched when Cora explained that her father had been murdered—an accidental casualty, a bystander that the murderer had to eliminate as a witness. Her older sister was distant, bordering on hatred and her mother was never home, so Cora spent most of her time with her boyfriend Jonah. They hardly ever fought, which Stasia could understand easily. Even from just the short amount of time that she had spent with her, it was easy to tell that Cora was naturally a calm and peaceful person. Apparently the spat was stupid and small; they were sitting on a bench outside the community center where Demana had organized a potluck when Jonah had made some offhand remark about how the whole thing was a waste of his time and Cora, who had just been having a rough day in general, had taken it a little too personally.

Stasia was lost in thought as Cora fell silent. She was amazed at how far Demana would travel to find his test subjects.

_But he took me without any previous knowledge. Technically, Annabella Easton didn't exist until like four days ago. So that suggests he'll grab on impulse if the opportunity presents itself or…maybe if he sees someone who has a particular trait that he really likes?_

"We've talked a lot about us now…what about you?" Meg interrupted Stasia's train of thought. "What's your story?"

"Oh…I, um, well, my name's Annabella Easton, but you already know that." Stasia bit her lip, pretending to be thinking about what to tell them. "My parents both work at a computer software company, I'm an only child, I go to boarding school—which is as terrible as all the stories say, in case you were wondering…uhh…what else do you want to know?" She was more than comfortable with opening that door; she knew Annabella Easton inside and out. She might as well be the preppy boarding school elite child—which was, of course, the point.

"Who's Talia?" asked Ellie softly. Stasia froze for half a second, trying not to panic.

_Crap…when did I say anything about Talia?_

"That's my nickname for my cousin Natalia," she lied, smoothly recovering from her momentary shock. "I don't remember mentioning her…"

"When you were unconscious," Tory explained. "You kept muttering something about 'can't reach Talia'."

"Huh." Stasia shrugged as if the words meant nothing to her. "Weird."

The other girls nodded and Stasia drew back into herself again. She hoped they wouldn't think it too unusual—the last thing she needed was to blow her cover. A touch of anxiety crept up in her throat and, out of habit, she started her telepathic reach toward her sister. A split second after she started making the connection she remembered that it was blocked.

_But does it really hurt to try?_

Out of desperation and loneliness more than anything, Stasia reached back out mentally, very cautiously, waiting in dread for her mental arm to hit that wall—but it didn't. Her breath caught and, hoping against all hope, she tried the only thing she could.

_Talia? Can you hear me?_

Stasia couldn't breathe for what felt like forever, but in reality was probably less than a second, while she waited, praying to heaven knows what entity that she would hear the voice that had been silent thus far.

_Stasia?_

 


End file.
